Healer
by GalahadsGurl
Summary: Morgaine is the sister of Arthur, as well as the wife & lover of both Galahad & Gawain. The war is over and the time for healing is at hand. GawainMorgaineGalahad. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't know Sarmatian. I don't even know if there are still records of a Sarmatian _language_. The "Sarmatian" name Galahad calls the Dark Child, is actually Farsi. Artistic license, thank you very much.

Chapter One

Artorius Castus and his legendary Sarmatian Knights were riding hard toward the Wall. They'd succeeded in their mission, but were trying to avoid an unnecessary and possibly bloody battle with the Woads. Galahad arched forward, his horse floundering as an arrow pierced through his shoulder plates and embedded deeply into his shoulder. Gawain and Arthur both stopped at the cry. "Galahad!" Gawain shouted, riding hard toward his friend.

Galahad dismounted, his injured arm tucked tightly to his chest. "I have to stop. I can't breathe." Galahad groaned, pressing his forehead into his horse's flank.

"We can't stop, Galahad. They'll be on us in seconds."

"Leave me. I'll catch up. I can't make it, I'm sorry."

Gawain looked helplessly at Arthur and was horrified to see him nod. "We can't leave him behind."

Galahad chuckled. "I'll be fine. I'll stay out of sight. Just promise, you'll come back to get me."

Gawain nodded sharply. "You have my word brother. Stay alive."

Galahad nodded, clasping arms with his best friend, before watching the fifteen remaining knights ride hard for the Wall. Hearing the Woads behind him, he pushed himself into the foliage and sat back against a tree. His sword was held in his good hand, and his ears strained to hear voices. However, soon the blood loss caught up with him, his eyes slipped closed and he slept.

When he woke, he was startled to see a Woad child crouched in front of him. When he went to speak, she shook her head and placed a gentle finger to his lips. "Don't speak. They'll hear you," she ordered. In Sarmatian, the tongue of Galahad's birth.

He stared at her in shock and surprise, but did as she said. "Close your eyes. You're going to be all right. Do not open them until I tell you."

He nodded, unsure of why he trusted the nymph in front of him. His eyes closed and no sooner had they closed, that he heard a Woad shout at the girl. "Why haven't you killed him yet!"

"I have no reason. He's injured."

"Fine then, I'll kill him." With the voice came the chilling sound of an iron blade against a scabbard.

Galahad withheld a flinch purely by strength of will. There was a rustle and next thing he knew, the girl was standing in front of him, the fabric of her dress brushing his nose. "You will do no such thing. He is injured and I shall lay claim to him."

"He's Roman!"

The girl chuckled slightly, before replying, "Correction, he's Sarmatian. A defeated, and forcibly drafted, Roman enemy. That puts him on our side, purely by accident of birth. I have no fight with Arthur or his Knights, only with Rome. Now be gone. Tell Merlin I went home."

The Woad grumbled, but left at her behest. "You may open your eyes now, Sarmatian," she whispered, crouching to examine his wound.

Opening his eyes, he found that he could not be concerned about her closeness. Not when she was so young and apparently so powerful that full-grown men heeded her word and Merlin himself would want to know her whereabouts. "Who are you?"

"Merlin calls me Dark Child. What is your name?" she asked, the language she used still the language Galahad had grown up using.

He stayed silent. He trusted her, yes, but not that much. She smiled. "That's all right. I shall just call you 'Sarmatian' then. Can you mount your horse, Sarmatian?"

He nodded, levering himself to his feet. Her arm looped around his waist and she steadied him as they walked slowly to the white stallion, called Dar, that stood silently off to the side. Galahad swung up unsteadily, swaying slightly. The Dark Child swung up in front of him, taking the reins in a firm, capable grip. "We're not that far from where I live. Hold on till then, and I'll take the arrow from your back."

He nodded, leaning forward against her gratefully. She patted his thigh and then urged the horse forward with a small click of her tongue. Her home was a rather large sized hut, built in Sarmatian style. She assisted Galahad in dismounting and led him gently into the house. Grabbing two knives from the table, she shoved the blades into the hot coals. "Come, let's get that arrow out, shall we?"

He nodded, sitting heavily on the only bed in the room. Moving slowly, and stopping whenever she caused him pain, she helped Galahad take off his tunic and boots. The kilt remained, preserving Galahad's modesty and peace of mind. Cutting the feathers from the arrow caused a flinch and the Dark Child's hands caressed his back, trying to bring some modicum of comfort. Checking the blades, she ripped a piece of cloth into long strips. "All right, I'm going to push the arrow through."

He nodded, closing his eyes tightly. She wrapped her arm around his neck and shoulders, standing at his back. "Ready?"

He grunted in affirmation, arching forward in pain as she shoved the arrow through quickly. Her hand gripped the shaft and tugged it the rest of the way through. Grabbing a thick lint pad, she pressed it to the gushing wounds. Galahad was panting hard, his body slumping forward. Her bloodless hand smoothed over his forehead, soothing him in the language of his birth. "Easy, Sarmatian, easy. The easiest part of it is over. The worst is still to come."

Reaching for a knife, she tightened her grip on his body and cauterized the wound in his back with a firm steady hand. Galahad struggled in her arms, too tired to break free. The smell of burning flesh caused his stomach to rebel, and he leaned forward, retching into a basin she held in front of him. Her hands smoothed gently along his spine, her voice gentle and calm. When he had stopped shaking, she reversed her grip and cauterized the exit wound as well. When it was over, she tipped Galahad onto his side. "It's over, Sarmatian. It's all over, I promise. Sleep now."

His eyes slipped closed and all he could say was, "Dar."

"Rest your eyes and heal. I shall tend to your stallion. A magnificent creature." Her voice was soft as she spoke about his horse and soon he fell to sleep to the sound of it.

The next day, Gawain and Bors rode fast and light to where they had left Galahad. "There's no sign of him," Gawain growled an hour later, after extensively searching the area.

"Maybe the Woads captured him."

"They don't take prisoners of Knights. They kill us. That's not it." Gawain snapped, before sighing. "I'm sorry, Bors. I'm just worried about him. He's the youngest. I promised when we got here I would protect him."

"Galahad knows that. Maybe he left on his own. Come, let's search the surrounding area."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I forgot to do this in the first chapter. So I'm going to do it now. King Arthur doesn't belong to me. I wish I could strap both Gawain and Galahad to a bed together and have my way with them, but if wishes were fishes, we'd all have enough to eat. So like I said, I don't own. I wish, but I don't. Don't sue. I have nothing.

Chapter Two

Two hours later, they came across the Dark Child's hut. She was standing outside, brushing down Dar's coat with a horse brush. "You are a beautiful creature. I bet your master is very fond of you," she cooed, her hand stroking the stallion's neck.

Running her hands over his flanks and down his legs, she tutted under her breath and smoothed a thick green paste over a wound in the horse's foreleg. "That feels better, huh?"

Gawain looked at Bors, seeing the Woad tattoos littering the child's arms, legs and back. "What is she doing alone?" he hissed.

"I highly doubt she's alone, Gawain. The Woads would never leave one of their own so unprotected. That is Dar however. Come, we must get the Knights. We cannot afford an ambush."

Gawain nodded and both whirled their steeds around, galloping back toward the Wall. The Dark Child had turned at the sound of hooves against the ground, scanning the woods with keen eyes. Her eyes saw the broken branches and narrowed. "Damn. Knights."

Patting the stallion once more, she moved into the hut. The Knight lay on the bed, resting through a pervading fever with the help of a well-made sleeping draught. The arrow had been poisoned and the poison could not be allowed to spread, thus the use of the herb, Fire-Root, which had brought on his high fever. And now, Arthur's Knights had found her abode, as well as the Sarmatian's stallion. They would be back. Approaching the Knight, she dipped a rag into the basin and wiped down his forehead. "Come back, Sarmatian. Your friends are coming to rescue you."

He only shifted his body against the wedge of blankets under his belly restlessly before settling again. She smiled and adjusting his covering, before sitting down before the fire and meditating silently.

Gawain and Bors arrived at Wall two days later, barging furiously into the Chamber of the Round Table. "Where's Galahad?" Arthur demanded, standing.

"We don't have him, Arthur. We found his horse. A Woad girl-child was brushing down Dar outside of a hut. We didn't want to risk an ambush, so we came back here for reinforcements."

The Knights stood, finishing the last of their ale and following the two to the stables. Gareth looked over at his brother, Gawain. "You said it was a girl-child. How old?"

"Ten or eleven. She was very small. She kind of reminded me of a Sarmatian girl in a way."

He nodded and mounted his horse. Arthur checked his armor and weapons before leading the way out. "Gawain, Bors, lead on."

They nodded and moved to the front of the ranks. Riding hard they arrived at the hut the next morning. Outside, the same girl stood alone, staring up at the setting moon. Her eyes were half-closed and she looked very serene. Arthur looked at his Knights and then nudged his horse into the clearing. She startled, scrambling toward the hut, before Lancelot cut her off. Soon, she found herself surrounded. She straightened her shoulders glaring up at Arthur in defiance. "What are you doing on my land?" she demanded in Briton.

"This is Roman land." Arthur reminded her.

"Pah!" she hissed, before speaking in Sarmatian, "This was Briton land before the Romans took it away. It belongs to me, to the Britons."

Lancelot reared backward, his horse sensing his jumpiness and rearing in protest. He fought the horse to a standstill, but not before, she slipped through the tiny space and dashed into her hut. Shutting the door, she leaned back against the door. Galahad looked over at her, eyes still bright with fever, though more alert than he had been only days before. "What's wrong, Nazneen?" he asked in Sarmatian, his voice low and husky.

She smiled at him, stepping from the door. She had noticed that, even though he knew she spoke Latin and Briton (both languages that he also spoke), he insisted on speaking the language of his homeland with her. She didn't mind; she hadn't had anyone to practice with since her father. "Nothing, Sarmatian. Your friends have come for you."

"I can't go."

"No, you cannot. Let me help you to the door. They must see that I haven't killed you."

He nodded and levered himself to a standing position, leaning heavily against the Dark Child. Though he still wore his kilt, his chest bubbled with gooseflesh at the chill in the air, away from the fire. Stopping at the doorframe, she grabbed her father's cloak and draped it around his bare chest. Opening the door with her toe, she helped him out the door. "Galahad!" Gawain shouted, dismounting and rushing to his friend.

The Dark Child looked up at him with a teasing smile. "So that's your name, huh?" she asked in low pitched Sarmatian.

He nodded with a tired smile, just as Gawain reached him and threw his arms around him. Galahad stiffened in pain, struggling to back

out of the embrace. "Gawain, let go! You're hurting me!' he groaned, before Gawain let go of him as though he was made of fire.

It was only then that the Knights noticed the bags under his eyes, the unnatural flush in his cheeks and the strapping around his chest, holding his right arm immobile. "Are you all right, Galahad?" Arthur asked, green eyes piercing his own.

"Yes. I'm fine. The Dark Child has been good to me. There was poison on the arrowhead. I've been fevered for four days now. She has been very kind to me." he replied in Briton.

Arthur nodded, looking at the Dark Child. "Thank you for your care of my Knight. Anything you wish, you may have."

"What I want, you don't have the power to give, Artorius Castus. However, I must insist that your Knight remain here. He is still healing and I wish to assure myself of his health before I release him from my care and his bed."

Arthur looked at her with a shrewd eye. "I will agree to such a wish if you tell me where the men are? Your protectors? The rest of your tribe?"

Galahad shook his head and answered for her. "There are none. She stays here alone. I have not seen anyone while I have been here."

"No one?"

"Not a soul resides here but the Dark Child. There are things which once belonged to a grown man and woman, but they have long been unused," Galahad assured them, his legs starting to get tired.

The Dark Child sensed his weakness seconds before he collapsed. "Catch him, he's going to fall," she ordered Gawain, just as Galahad's legs finally gave out and he dropped toward the ground, Gawain catching him gently. "Bring him inside," she instructed, pointing at the sleeping dais by the far wall, "Lay him there. The rest of you might as well dismount and brush down your horses. You can put them up in my stables. While you are on my land, you are safe from the Woads."

"You are a Woad." Kay, one of the younger and more cynical Knights, accused.

Lancelot shook his head, looking at Arthur. "No she's not. She's Sarmatian. She speaks Sarmatian."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"She has the tattoos." Bors reminded them.

She rolled her eyes. "Come inside and I will answer all of your questions. I must tend to my patient," she said before returning to the confines of her hut.

Arthur looked at his Knights, dismounting and stabling his horse. Inside, the Dark Child washed her hands in the bowl of hot water on the table, before checking a bubbling pot over the fire. Grabbing a cup from the cupboard, she filled it up and set it on the table by the bed. Galahad groaned. "No, Nazneen, not again."

"Yes again. It's working. This could very well be the last time," she soothed in Sarmatian, her hands running like liquid through his ebony curls.

"You promise?" he pleaded, green eyes frightened.

"There are no promises in medicine, Sarmatian, but I do believe that this will be the last application."

Unwrapping the bandages, she gently took his wrist and elbow, working the muscles to prevent any atrophy. Galahad grimaced as she straightened it out, lifting it up over his head, pulling at the shoulder joint and stretching the still-healing wounds. Reaching for the cup, she inquired, "Ready?"

He slipped a leather gag between his teeth and turned away, before nodding resolutely. The remaining Knights joined a fascinated and watchful Gawain as the Dark Child slipped her fingers into the cup and scooped out a handful of thick red paste. Her free hand came around him, locking him to her frame, fingers buried in his hair. Galahad closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before her slender fingers slipped into the wounds. At the intrusion, Galahad arched away with an agonized scream, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. Gawain and Gareth both rushed to pull her away, but were stopped by the violent shake of Galahad's head. "No! Let her finish!" he sobbed, moaning in anguish as her fingers slipped gently into the exit wound as well.

She spoke softly in Sarmatian as she worked. "Good boy. The worst of it is over. You're all right. You're a good boy. The best boy."

Galahad sagged, shudders running through his body like mercury as she wiped her hand on a towel at the side of the bed. Filling another goblet with a cool, murky white liquid, she tipped it to his lips. "Drink, Sarmatian. Drink and sleep well," she soothed, hand rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to comfort.

Galahad sipped from the goblet, feeling his eyes start to grow heavy. Releasing him for a moment, leaving him sitting up and swaying, she created a thick wedge with three extra blankets. "Come on, dove, lay down. On your belly," she instructed gently, slipping the wedge between his stomach and the bed, keeping most of his weight on the front part of his uninjured side. The injured arm was drawn up and folded carefully on top of the wedge. "Good boy. All the way," she reminded as he resisted the position for a second, before slumping onto the wedge in exhaustion, "Good boy. Sleep, Sarmatian. May the Gods bless you with a dreamless sleep," she whispered, with a tender, motherly kiss to his brow as he fell into oblivion.

Pulling up the covers, she situated them about his chest and pulled a curtain closed about the enclave, leaving him in sequestered solitude. Turning to her guests, she gestured at the cushions and chairs about the room, speaking in a gentle tone, "Please, be seated."

"What was that?" Arthur asked curiously, nodding his head at the half-full cup on the table.

She dumped what remained into the fire, before answering. "It's called Fire-Root."

"Fire-Root brings on a drenching fever," Gawain snapped, taking a menacing step forward.

She showed no fear of him, causing him to stop in surprise. Her face was serene and calm. "Yes, I know. So does Galahad; I explained the symptoms of Fire-Root usage to him before I used it. I wanted his consent to do so. The best way to rid his body of its poison is to burn it out. He agreed to undergo the treatment, though he hates its application. I put him to sleep directly after administering the poultice and he sleeps through the fever, waking every five hours or so. When the fever quits itself, the poison is that much closer to being gone."

"Tell me who you are." Arthur ordered.

"I was born the daughter of a Sarmatian Knight and a Romano-Briton. When I was very young, the Romans came. They burnt my mother at the stake, using the now burnt-out tree behind the hut, and took my father away. I was sent to the shelter of the woods by my mother when Father told us they were coming. I watched my mother burn, unable to help her. Merlin found me wandering, and took me to his village. He taught me everything he would teach a daughter about herbs and healing, while his people taught me archery and swordplay. 'If I was able to kill, I had better be able to heal as well,' was his lesson to me. I was good at killing, but I relished the pride healing the sick and injured gave me."

"How old were you when Merlin took you in?"

"I was only four summers old, by a Sarmatian accounting anyway. When I was 11 winters old, by a Briton accounting, I was deemed old enough to take my place among the Woads. I refused. Merlin knew that they would have killed me for that refusal and told me that I was old enough to care for myself. I ran. I've been here, in the hut my father built for my mother and me, ever since."

"How old are you now?"

"By Briton standards, I just passed my 14th cycle. I was formally forgiven by my Dark Father and I am the heir to Merlin's power and prestige."

Just then the door opened and Merlin stepped inside the gloomy hut.


	4. Chapter 4

Two parts in one day. I have the whole story. If you don't want to wait, just tell me to publish it all, and I should have it up by Sunday. If not, I'll keep posting like I have been. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Disclaimer: Same as Part Two

Chapter Four

The Knights dived for their weapons, but the Dark Child lunged into his arms. "Merlin!"

"Hello, my Child. You've not been to the village in awhile, so I thought that I would come to check on you myself."

"I am well, Father."

"Your patient? Briac is furious, by the way, that you didn't let him kill the Knight while he had the chance."

"He's recovering, and you can tell Briac I kicked his ass in childhood, I'll do it again."

Merlin gave his adoptive child a rare smile, pleased by her boldness and defiance. "You are my Darkest Child and you do my heart good. Do not forget, Dark Child, you have your part to play in the Festivals next month."

"I will be there."

"Good. I'll take my leave before I find myself run through by an over-eager Knight. I love you, my Dark Child."

"I love you, my Dark Father."

He smiled sparingly, bowing to Arthur formally, before sweeping from the hut, his cloak fluttering in his wake. After he was gone, Arthur turned to look at her. "What is your name? Galahad calls you 'the Dark Child' or 'Nazneen' and even Merlin calls you 'Child'."

"My father named me Morgaine, meaning 'Sea's Edge'. But my adoptive people, the Woads, call me Morgan le Faye."

"Morgan le Faye?" Gareth asked quietly.

"Yes. Morgan le Faye. Which directly translates to 'Morgaine of the Fairies', of whom they have long believed I am descended from."

Arthur looked at her, scrutinizing this girl-woman that sat in their midst, unafraid. She seemed too old to be so young. "I, too, lost my mother to a fire. I, too, watched her burn, unable to help her. If you would agree, I would take you as my sister in fire."

Morgaine watched him, nodding slightly. "I would be honored, Artorius Castus."

"Just Arthur. We are family now," he teased, amused by her childish blush.

"Of course, Arthur. I only ask that you leave us behind for now. When Galahad is well, we will meet you at the Wall. But he is in no condition to be moved."

Arthur thought for a moment, before he nodded sagely at the sound observation. "I would ask in return that you allow me to leave one of my Knights behind to stay with you. Galahad gets grumpy; you'll need someone to guilt him into submission and, barring that, beat him senseless."

Morgaine laughed, the first sound of merriment that the Knights had heard her make. As she laughed, her age shone through her wisdom and her gentle purity was easier to see. "All right. I will agree to whomever you leave behind."

Arthur immediately looked at Gawain. Gawain knew without looking that he'd been the one chosen. He would have protested if he hadn't been anyway. He nodded once and disappeared behind the curtain separating Galahad from the rest. Morgaine only smiled, having sensed their closeness at Gawain's earlier embrace. "Brothers?" she inquired rhetorically.

"Aye. Blood brothers." Tristan reaffirmed.

She smiled at him, though the rest looked startled by the uncharacteristic sound of his voice. "I would suggest you leave at nightfall. I will send my dove to Merlin. He will bring in his sentries and allow you safe passage."

"Or they'll ambush up!" announced a skeptical Kay.

Morgaine paused at the door of her hut, looking back with a small, entirely serene smile. "No. Merlin has no fight with Arthur and his Knights. Only Rome. If he did, he would have insisted I murder your friend in his sleep days ago, when Briac reported that I had spared him in the forest. Rest while you can. I will send word to my Dark Father."

Arthur looked at his Knights. "I trust her. We might as well do as she says."

The Knights looked at each other. Arthur was an excellent judge of character. They nodded in agreement, bedding down around the large living room for some much needed rest. Arthur watched the curtain sway slightly for awhile, but he too heeded his "Fire-Sister's" advice.

Gawain sat alone at his best friend's bedside, using a soft cotton cloth and cool water to wipe his brow of the sweat there. Galahad slept fitfully, his body flinching as he tried to move his injured arm. Gawain reached out, and gently pinioned his arm where it was. The flesh burned beneath his hand, but the contact seemed the soothe Galahad's troubling dreams. "What do you dream of in your fevered sleep, Galahad, that troubles you so?" he whispered rhetorically.

He sat that way till nightfall, when he left Galahad's bedside and went to assist the Knights in their preparations to leave. When Arthur mounted, Morgaine approached him with a beautiful, white turtledove cupped in the curve of her palms. "Take Tahira with you. She will be your symbol of safe passage. Ride hard; stop for nothing and do not look back. The sentries and scouts will be back in position by daybreak. You must be out of the forest by then."

Arthur nodded, clasping her hand tightly. "My thanks for your care of my Knight, Fire-Sister."

She smiled at the new title and curtsied slightly in. "It is both my duty and pleasure, my Fire-Brother. We shall join you at the Wall soon."

Arthur nodded once, meeting Gawain's eyes. Gawain nodded once and then watched his commander and fellow Knights leave the clearing. Morgaine turned and sadly smiled at Gawain. "They will be all right. I would not have let them leave my hut if they would not be."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Gawain nodded and followed her inside. Morgaine pushed back the curtain, wringing out a cloth to wipe down Galahad's flushed form. Turning to him, she smiled at the sight of his dazed green eyes. "Has it been five hours already?" she teased in gentle Sarmatian, crouching beside the bed to be able to look into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

His head shifted on its pillow and he blinked languidly, before he replied, "Better," in a husky voice hoarse with disuse.

"Good. Would you like some water?"

He groaned as he nodded. Though her eyes sparkled with concern, she reached for a cup of water at his head. "Slowly," she admonished, as she tipped the cup to his lips, her hand lifting his head gently to drink. Sipping the water brought welcome relief to his hot, itchy body. "I'm going to bathe you, all right? It should help you feel better."

He nodded, his eyes closing as he sunk deeper into the mattress. Turning to the silent Knight, she furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Depends on the favor."

"Outside, behind the hut, there's a well. Could you fill this with water?" she asked, pulling out a large tin bucket with side handles.

He nodded and seemed surprised at its weight when he took it from her. After Gawain left the room, she seated herself on the edge of the bed next to her patient. "What pains you, Sarmatian?"

"My shoulder is sore. And I feel so hot."

"I can give you some poppy syrup. It should help with the pain."

He shook his head at the offer of the pain-killing drug. "No thanks. I've had worse. I don't need it."

She nodded, smiling at him. "All right. Let's get you undressed for your bath, then, all right?"

He nodded, letting her pull the wedge from under him and lay him gingerly on his back, a thick pillow under the injured shoulder to prevent it from touching the hard wooden pallet, cushioned only by blankets and pillows. She unwrapped the kilt carefully, before draping a white towel across his lap for modesty's sake. Gawain came back into the hut, just as she grabbed a pair of scissors. "What are you doing with those?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"Really, Sir Gawain, you need to relax. If I wanted to kill him, I would have poisoned him with the stash of mushrooms in the drawer to your left days ago and saved myself the trouble. I'm going to cut his hair, if you must know."

Gawain blushed sheepishly, before setting the bucket by the door where she directed. Snipping confidently, she began to cut Galahad's longish, unruly hair. When she was done, she placed the cuttings on a napkin and wrapped them up, before running her fingers through the new length, ruffling his hair gently to shake free any loose curls that remained. "Get me the bucket."

Gawain leaped to do as told, realizing that she knew what it was that she was doing, and handing her the bucket. She set it at her feet and gently pulled Galahad to the edge of the bed. Gesturing for Gawain, she handed him a thick sheepskin cloth. "Hold this to his eyes and help me turn him onto his stomach."

He nodded, rolling Galahad carefully so that his head was hanging off the bed. Pressing the cloth to Galahad's eyes, he watched in fascination as she began to pour water over Galahad's head, soaking his hair with cool water. He began to detect a slight shiver as she started to rub some lye root onto her hand and through his hair. Rinsing the soap out, she lay Galahad back on the bed and began to rub his hair dry briskly. His teeth chattered loudly as she rubbed her palms together hard and then began to rub his ribs, calves and arms to warm him up. "Are you all right, Sarmatian?"

"Cold," he told her, with a small smile.

Laying the back of hand gently under his ear, she smiled. "Your fever is starting to go down. I think it'll probably break within the next few hours."

Galahad nodded, closing his eyes. Looking at Gawain, she pointed at the bucket. "Toss that water out and fill it again."

Gawain ran to do as told. She looked at Galahad before smiling at his eyes. "Where are the Knights?" he inquired quietly.

"They have left, Sarmatian. Your friend, Gawain, was ordered to stay behind."

Galahad sighed before grinning slightly. "I'm glad he got left behind. I was dying without any male conversation."

Her eyebrow cocked at the teasing tone, even as sick as he was, before she scolded, "I think I'm going to wanting for some feminine companionship pretty soon at the sound of that comment."

He chuckled, wincing imperceptibly at the jar of his shoulder. She adjusted the pillow under his shoulder, just as Gawain entered with the water. "Here you are, Lady."

Galahad turned to look at, "Lady? What's that all about, Nazneen?"

"Nothing, Galahad. Rest. It's going to be a little cold, I'm afraid."

"It usually is," he remarked sagely, before gasping at the coldness of the water against his flushed skin.

She bathed him silently, being especially careful around both sides of the wound. His leg jumped as she ran the cloth up past his knee. He blushed scarlet as his body reacted to her touch. She blushed as well, before handing the cloth to Gawain. "You finish it," she ordered, before disappearing from the hut.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Gawain cocked an eyebrow at his best friend, before finishing wiping him down. Dropping the cloth back into the bucket, he helped him wrap the kilt about his hips and lifted him from the bed. Morgaine reappeared for a few moments at the sound of movement and changed the blankets and furs on the bed, before leaving once again. Gawain cocked an eyebrow at her embarrassment and set Galahad on his side, leaning forward on the wedge of blankets. Galahad nuzzled his cheek into the fresh coverings, giving a contented sigh at how much better he felt. Gawain leaned back in his chair, his hands cupped around his knee. "Want to tell me what that was about, Gal?"

Galahad shook his head. "No, not really."

"You know that Arthur adopted her as his sister, right?"

"No, I must have been sleeping through that part." Galahad remarked snidely.

"He did. Which means that, if you want her hand in marriage, you're going to have to go through Arthur. You're young, Galahad, too young; only 18 summers old. Arthur'll never let you marry her right now."

"I'm too young to be thinking about marriage, Gawain. But I'm not too young to be thinking about girls. She's a beautiful creature, Gawain, even for a child. And she's so serene, so calm, completely aware of her own world and what takes place in it."

"She's 14. Most young women her age are married by now."

"You know Arthur's not going to marry her to anyone until she's at least 16. You know it and I know it."

"I know, so you have two years to become worthy of Arthur's sister."

Galahad nodded with a deep sigh. "I intend to be worthy of her, Gawain. She didn't have to save me from the Woads. She could have let them kill me. She didn't have to fight the poison with me. She could have simply stepped back and let nature take its course, letting fate decide whether I would live or die. I want to give her the world. I want to give her my heart."

Gawain nodded at his young friend, patting his leg gently. "I know, my friend. And you will have that chance. I know you will. She seems to genuinely care for you."

Galahad looked at him with naked hope in his eyes. "You think so?"

"Yes. Just be patient, and don't die. Someday, you might no longer be the youngest anymore."

"I'm always going to be the youngest," Galahad reminded him dryly.

"Unless you're dead."

"Not happening. And shut up; don't jinx it."

Gawain laughed, ruffling his hair fondly as Galahad gave a huge yawn and his eyes started to slip closed. "Good night, my friend. Rest. I'll go talk to Morgaine."

"Tell Nazneen," Gawain's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden use of the Sarmatian word amongst the Briton they had been speaking, "that I am grateful for her care of me."

"I will, Gal. Just sleep."

Galahad nodded and slumped deeper into his blankets, falling asleep easily. Gawain stood and left the hut, catching sight of the moonlight features of Morgaine. She was not aware that he was there and he examined her objectively from his hiding place in the shadows.

Her face was upturned the moonlight caressing her dark Sarmatian skin, her straight raven hair flying out around her in the wind. Her blue eyes were watching the moon with something close to adoration and respect. "Are you worshipping it, or admiring it?"

"I worship the gods and admire the moon. Or didn't you know that sometimes you really can't do both?"

"Yes, I knew that. I admire Arthur's faith in his Christian god, but I worship my own gods."

"Same here. I admire the Christians for their determinations and their faith, but I cannot be one of them. My mother was a Christian and the Christian Romans killed her, because she was married to a pagan. What kind of a God would encourage the murder of his own just because they loved differently?"

Gawain looked at her, seeing the diamond tracks of tears on her face. "So how long until he's free of his fever and able to travel?"

"I'd say about three days. I was right. We only needed that last application of the Fire-Root and the poison was at my mercy. He'll be fine. I'm going to keep him sedated for the most part, sleeping to gain his energy, because I fear that if I don't, he'll never heal, insisting on being macho and male."

"He told me to tell Nazneen that he was grateful for her care. You are Nazneen?"

"Yes. I speak Sarmatian. My Sarmatian father taught me. Your friend Galahad and I speak Sarmatian together, all the time. It doesn't matter what's going on. Nazneen is a name given to a beloved woman or child."

"I know what it means. It was my language too."

"Why can't it still be so? There is nothing that forbids your usage of the language. I would gladly practice with you, if that is all that you require, a sparring partner to put it in such terms."

He looked at her with a smile. "I would like that."

She nodded and turned to go back into her hut. "I'm going to make supper. I haven't eaten since sunrise. If you wish, I can make you some."

"No, thank you anyway, Morgaine, I'm not hungry."

"All right. I shall speak with you later, then."

He nodded once, bowing to her informal curtsy, before she disappeared from his view.

Days later, Galahad was seated on the edge of the bed as Morgaine sewed the gaping edges of his wounds together. They had been more worried about the poison than infection, but with the poison gone, infection was now a real possibility. "Thank you, Nazneen."

"When I am old, will you still call me such?" she asked, preparing to tie off the thread.

"Of course, you will always be my Dark Child," he replied, twisting to look back over his shoulder at her.

She nodded amusedly and bit the thread, cutting it off. "There, all done. Let's wrap it up and head out. I can tell that Gawain is getting anxious. He wants to be back at the Wall."

"Will we really have safe passage?"

"Yes; Merlin thinks that I will accomplish great things for the Woads in my new place among Arthur's Knights. Maybe I can get a few to stop killing so many of my kinsmen," she needled, starting to wrap fresh linen around the shoulder, holding the right arm cradled against his chest and immobile.

Galahad looked back over his shoulder cocking an eyebrow. "Hm."

She swatted at his uninjured side, glaring at him teasingly. "Shut up, I know how unlikely it is. But still, one can only hope."

Galahad nodded and the two left the hut. Gawain looked over at him from atop his mare and sighed, "Finally. Now we can get back to the Wall, and Galahad can get back to earning his keep."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

When the Festivals came a month later, Morgaine asked Arthur's permission to go. She explained to him that she had her part to play and her Dark Father would be disappointed in her if she did not attend. He gave his permission, under the condition that she take a Knight with her. She smiled wickedly, already knowing which Knight she would ask to come with her.

Three nights before the Festivals were to begin, she snuck silently into the barracks where the Knights slept. Approaching Galahad's bed, she pressed a hand over his mouth. He jerked up, relaxing at the sight of Morgaine crouching at the side of his bed, her finger pressed to her lips for silence. He nodded once, before taking the time to examine her attire. Morgaine was already dressed as Heir, her sable hair pulled back in a high plait braided with lace and ribbons and she was dressed in gossamer veils that wrapped around her waist and chest, leaving her tattooed belly bare, with a belt of lightly jingling golden coins. Galahad stared at the sight of the piercing through her belly button, from which hung a gold coin.

"Nazneen?" he asked in Sarmatian, wondering what she was doing in the one place Arthur had expressly forbidden her. "What are you doing in here?"

"Come with me outside, Sarmatian, please?" she replied similarly, her voice barely above the sound of the quietest church-mouse.

He nodded, tossing back his blankets and padding after her. Only Gawain saw them leave, but said nothing, hunkering back down into his bed with a small smile. Outside the barracks, he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"I am going to the Festivals, Sarmatian. Arthur gave me his permission to go, provided I take a Knight with me. You will be gone a week."

"You want to take me!" he asked in surprise.

She blushed with a nod. "I like you, Sarmatian. You, Lancelot, Arthur and Gawain have always been kind to me, when everyone else goes out of their way to be rude and suspicious."

"I don't see you asking Lancelot, Arthur or Gawain to go to the Festivals," he pointed out sagely.

"I know. I want to take you. Please, Galahad," she begged, surprising him with her use of his name, "come with me to the Festivals."

He nodded once. "Stay here. I must pack."

She nodded and waited where she stood. Gawain looked over at Galahad as he began to pack his clothes, a bow, arrows and grabbed his sword from the wall over his bedroll. "Where are you going?"

"Arthur has given Nazneen permission to go to the Festivals. I am to accompany her."

"Have fun. Be careful. You'll be in Woad territory."

Galahad clasped hands with his friend and replied quietly, "I'll see you in a week," before leaving the barracks. Morgaine smiled at him, taking his hand and leading him to the two stabled horses in the stables. She swirled a thick green cloak about her shoulders to ward off the chill of the night and hide her immodestly clad form from Roman and Knighted eyes. Mounting silently, the two moved as one toward the Wall and left the safety of its gray stone.

The next morning, when the Knights woke, the immediate topic of conversation was the absence of Galahad. Later that morning after breakfast, Gareth looked up as Arthur and Lancelot came into the Chamber of the Round Table. "Arthur, where is Galahad?"

"Galahad has accompanied my sister on her trip back to the Woads."

All of the Knights but Gawain surged to their feet in outrage. "And you let him go! He'll get killed."

Gawain rolled his eyes at his fellow Knights' ignorance. "Morgaine will let nothing happen to him," he muttered in Sarmatian.

Kay was standing directly to Gawain and whirled on him. "She's a whore and traitor!"

Arthur moved to retaliate to that statement, but Gawain beat him to it. His mighty fist smashed into Kay's face, sending Kay sprawling to the floor. "Morgaine has been called many things, but the least likely of these accusations would be that of whore and less likely still would be title of traitor!" he roared at the man at his feet, before turning to face the rest of the Knights, leaning forward against the table with his fists balled tightly in fury. "She has chosen her side! She is here, with us, promising to help and protect us in anyway possible. She healed Galahad when she didn't have to, and bartered with Merlin to give you all safe passage from Woad territory. Merlin raised her, treated her as his own daughter, taught her everything he knows about herbs, their uses and about healing. She has no reason to remain loyal to Rome's cause. The Rome that we serve, willingly or not, murdered her mother and took her father away from her. She has no reason to respect Rome. But she respects us. She loves Merlin, yes! But she also loves Arthur and furthermore, she is in love with Galahad! And Galahad is in love with her."

His eyes widened at his inadvertent confession. "Blast. I wasn't supposed to say that, Arthur."

Arthur laughed lightly. "I had already known that my sister was in love with Galahad, although the news that Galahad is in love with her is new."

"You cannot tell him I told you, Arthur. He'd be horrified."

"None in this room shall tell Galahad we know. It will soon be about the time for her to be married anyway, and Galahad is of a suitable age." Arthur said with a nonchalant shrug, before turning to Lancelot, his most trusted Knight and friend.

"Sounds like a good plan to me. Galahad would make her a good husband." Lancelot affirmed, placing the two teenagers together in his head and nodding emphatically at what he saw. "They would suit well, I believe."

Gawain sat back, giving no evidence that he had just laid Kay out moments before. "He is determined to be worthy of her."

"Good, maybe I'll let him sweat about it for awhile. Although I imagine I should announce their betrothal within the next year."

Lancelot laughed lightly, moving to his chair and sprawling out in it, accepting a goblet from a servant. "Still, don't let him off that easily. Let him sweat about it for a year, at least. And then announce it without his knowledge. Let them deal with it. I doubt either would protest the idea very much."

Arthur nodded, sitting in his own chair. "I believe I shall do so."

The three laughed lightly, while the remaining eleven traded their attention between an unconscious Kay and the laughing triumvirate.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

On the evening following Galahad and Morgaine's arrival, the Festival began. Galahad had stayed close to Morgaine since they had arrived, his sword hanging from his belt and in close range of his sword hand. Though it still pained him every once and awhile, his shoulder had healed nicely and the blade was once again a negligible weight in his palm. Merlin greeted them, pulling them both toward the dais at the front. Pointing to a cushion at the base, he spoke to Galahad. "That is your place, Sarmatian."

"And where will Nazneen be?"

"She will be at your left, on the dais next to me, and around the fire as a dancer. You are well protected as long as you remain where I can see you. I will allow no harm to you. My Dark Child bought your safe passage and she brought you under that safe passage. But I cannot control the emotions of my people. So stay where I can see you. And if you must leave, take the Child with you."

Galahad nodded his agreement, before sitting down on the cushion, leaning back against the edge of dais lazily. Morgaine smiled at him and kissed his head, before taking her seat beside and below her Dark Father. Brushing the cloak behind him, he held out his arms, "My people!"

There was a shout of jubilation from the assembled Woads and Merlin stood, reaping up the accolades. "Let the Festivals begin!"

There was immediately a rush of drums. Morgaine turned to look at Merlin and he nodded. Getting up, she moved to stand by the fire with the other women and began to dance to the beat of the drums, the sensual, fluid movements of her arms, hips and torso keeping Galahad's eyes fixed on her. Merlin saw this and smiled. He knew that his Dark Child was attached to the Sarmatian, which was why he took such pains to keep him alive. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"

Galahad jerked, looking at Merlin in surprise. "I apologize. I should not have presumed."

"That's not what I asked, Sarmatian. She is beautiful, isn't she?"

Galahad looked back over her, and nodded with a dreamy smile. "Yes, she is beautiful. I intend to ask Arthur for her hand."

Merlin nodded with a small, rare smile. "Good. You may tell your Arthur that you have my approval as my Darkest Child's mate and lover."

Galahad blushed, turning his back on the powerful man in order to preserve his composure. Merlin chuckled at his discomfiture, and turned back to his Child, smiling at her subtle gaze. She knew what he had done. She always knew what he did. He nodded at her and leaned back, enjoying the dance and the Festival. Her smile burst forth for a moment, before it faded away and she lost herself in the dance again.

A week later, Galahad carried an exhausted Morgaine in front of him on his saddle, her mare on a lead rein behind them. She slept, curled up against his chest, sable hair wild and free about her face. Though he couldn't look at her, he knew that he loved every shift, every breath, every dream, every word. And what's more, he had the permission of her adoptive father to do so.

When they arrived at the Wall after nightfall, he dismounted gracefully, handing Dar's reins to Jols with a smile, before lifting the sleeping beauty from the saddle. "I'm going to take Morgaine to her rooms. If you see him, before I do, could you tell Arthur that we're back?"

Jols nodded, smiling at the young Knight. "I will do that, Galahad. It's good to have you back."

He smiled with a nod. Taking the less seen, back way, Galahad carried Morgaine to her chamber. Pushing open the door, he stepped into the large room. Laying her gently on the bed, he eased her out of her cloak and hung it on the peg behind the door. Returning to the bedside, he did what he could to prepare her for bed. He unwrapped the jingling belt about her waist, tugged off her boots and unbraided her hair. Setting them in their places, he returned to the bed and bent over her, pressing an adoring kiss to her head. "I love you, Nazneen."

As he straightened, a strong familiar hand took hold of him and pulled hi back down. "I love you, Sarmatian," came Morgaine's voice just before her soft, pliant lips pressed to his.

He moaned hungrily and kissed her hard. "Close the door and then come to bed," she ordered huskily, as his lips traced a heated path down her throat.

He scrambled to do as he was told and then came back to the bed. And that night, clothed only in the moonlight that Morgaine so admired, they surrendered themselves to one another and consummated their love for one another.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Three hours after he'd first seen Galahad, Jols found Arthur first. "Galahad's back, Arthur. Been back three hours."

"Is he still with the Lady Morgaine?"

"If he hasn't shown his face around here, then I would believe so, Arthur. They're young still, and they are in love."

"I know, Jols. I must punish, of course. But it will do him some good to have someone to loose himself in and some memories to bury his nightmares under. Who better than his future wife?"

Jols nodded with a smile. "If that's all….?"

"Yes, Jols; by all means, seek your bed." Arthur encouraged, waving away his able friend and capable groom.

The next morning, Arthur entered the dining hall. "Galahad!" he called, gesturing the youngest away from his breakfast.

Galahad paled, remembering that he'd told Jols to let Arthur know he's returned. "Coming, Arthur," he assure him, wiping his mouth and rushing out after the commander.

Arthur moved away from the dining hall, making sure that no eavesdropping ears could hear the lecture the young Knight was about to get. "I heard about your return from Jols. Even if you are sure he will tell me of such, it is still your responsibility to check in with me personally. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Arthur, it won't happen again."

"No, it won't. Regardless of how persistent my sister can be."

What little color Galahad still had faded from his cheeks as he felt the world black out at those words. "Arthur?"

"I know where you were last night. I don't mind. Morgaine is a big girl, she can make her own choices. She knows what she wants. That, however, does not excuse you from your duty."

Galahad nodded, still in shock that his lover's Christian brother knew that they'd been together and he wasn't going to do bodily harm to him, or something equally drastic. "Last night cannot go unpunished, Galahad."

Galahad nodded, knowing that he was either going to get a beating at Dagonet's hands or he was going to be in solitary confinement for at least a week. He'd seen it happen to other Knights and for a lot less serious infractions. It was Roman law, and though he hated it, Arthur was bound by his oath to Rome to carry it through. The Sarmatians Knights, after all, were only glorified slaves, their lives and deaths at the whim of Rome and her Leaders. Arthur nodded at him, seeing that he knew what his options were. "Jols," he called toward the groom who was walking toward the dining hall, "while you're in there, send me Dagonet."

Jols nodded, before disappearing into the dining hall. Arthur turned to Galahad. "After your beating, find Morgaine and have her tend to your wounds. And for the next four nights, starting tonight, you're on consecutive watch."

Galahad nodded, grimacing at the thought of the next 96 hours without sleep. Dagonet came out, looking between the two green eyed men in confusion. "Arthur?" he asked in his low quiet voice.

"Dagonet, Galahad will tell you what to do. I have to go find my sister."

Dagonet nodded and watched the commander before turning to look at Galahad. "I did something stupid." Galahad said by way of explanation.

Dagonet nodded, knowing what that meant. "The usual?"

"Arthur didn't say otherwise."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: The song that Morgaine sings to Galahad is not mine. It's the song that Vanora sings in the actual movie.

Chapter Ten

Dagonet grunted, heading for the stables. Once there, Galahad unlaced the collar of his shirt and slung it over a stall door. Turning his back to Dagonet, he reached out and grabbed the door firmly with both hands. The first hit of the lash was always a shock and Galahad arched into the wood with a gasp as he felt it slice through his skin. Counting each crack against his flesh silently, he breathed a mental sigh of relief at the mental sound of twenty. Dagonet coiled the braided and systematically knotted lash, before hanging it back in its place. Saying nothing, Dagonet left, which Galahad appreciated. He never liked to have people pestering him after he'd been punished. And at 18, and as a typically rebellious teenager, Sarmatian or otherwise, he had been punished a lot more than he cared to recall.

Standing where he was for a moment to gain some semblance of peace, he straightened painfully and grabbed his rough cotton shirt, slipping it over his head and settling it painfully onto his shoulders. He left the stables with some composure, before retreating to Morgaine's chambers. Morgaine and Arthur were in deep conversation. He stopped outside the door, listening to the tail-end of the discussion. "Will you care for him, both physically and mentally? He doesn't like the killing we do, and it weighs on him heavily."

"I will do everything in my power to care for him, Arthur. You have my word."

Arthur nodded, kissing Morgaine's forehead fondly, before standing. "Galahad has no doubt been punished by now and will be on his way here. He is on consecutive watch for the next four nights, Morgaine."

Morgaine nodded sagely, before there was a knock and Galahad slipped into the room. "Morgaine….Arthur."

Morgaine came to Galahad's side, kissing him sweetly and seating him carefully on a low stool by the end of the bed. "I have work to do, so I shall take my leave of you both. You have until twilight tonight to yourself. Rest while you can."

Galahad nodded, watching his commander leave. Morgaine clucked her tongue, speaking in Sarmatian, "Always getting into trouble, my lad."

"It's your fault."

"I didn't know you hadn't checked in with Arthur, or I never would have kept you. I would have sent you to check in and then told you to come to bed."

Galahad laughed, before wincing as she retracted his shirt from his body. Cleansing the lash marks with cold water, she left them un-bandaged, before turning down her bed. Coming back to him with a smile, she knelt in front of him and helped him pulled off his boots and unwrap his kilt, leaving him in naught but his skin. Climbing into the bed, he turned tiredly onto his stomach and then sighed at the feel of her fingers trailing lazily over old scars. She hummed tunelessly, before breaking into an gentle Sarmatian lullaby that he could remember his mother singing to him as a child. _"Land of bear, and land of eagle. Land that gave us birth and blessing. Land that calls us ever homeward. We will go home, across the mountains."_

He fell asleep with the sound of her voice still lingering in his mind. Upon his slip into oblivion, Morgaine stood and dressed for the day. She wore a long baby blue gown of the richest material the Romans could offer. The heavy silk dragged on her body, but she straightened her shoulders and glided from her room like a queen. Heading toward the dining hall, she was visibly surprised to find the Knights still clustered around their meals. She usually tried to avoid them, if she didn't have to be around them. Smoothing her face back into lines of passivity, she turned her back and tried to leave again without anyone being the wiser.

Looking up from his meal, Gawain caught sight of Morgaine and shot to his feet. "Lady Morgaine!"

Morgaine turned and smiled wanly at him. "Good morning, Sir Gawain. I can see you're still eating. I will come back; I would hate to ruin the meals of your companions."

Lancelot was standing behind her when she turned. "Don't be ridiculous, Lady. They will survive the meal as they would any other. I imagine you're starving."

She gave a bashful smile, blushing prettily. "I am hungry, Sir Lancelot."

"Good, then you'll eat with Gawain, Arthur and me," he insisted, presenting her his arm.

She smiled up at him, appreciating his gallantry, before accepting his arm and allowing him to lead her across the dining hall. Arthur had heard Lancelot's statement, and had placed his bowl on the table where Gawain stood, standing until his sister sat first. Gawain continued to stand, pulling out her chair for her. "Thank you, Sir Gawain."

Arthur chuckled as the three Knights took their seats about her. "We aren't so formal here, Sister. You don't need to call us 'Sir'."

Morgaine looked at her brother, puzzled by this proclamation. "I was under the impression that 'Sir' was a declaration of respect."

Lancelot paused in his eating, nodding, "It is, Lady."

"Then, if I have respect for my companions, might I not call them 'Sir?' You all call me Lady, with the exception of Galahad, who calls me Nazneen."

Gawain chuckled. "While it is pleasing to know that you respect us, Lady, we do not need the title to know it. We call you Lady, because it would not be proper to call you by your given name. You are a woman and deserving of respect always. Regardless of acquaintance or manner of fondness in one's heart."

Morgaine nodded at this explanation, before smiling gratefully at Gawain. "Thank you, Gawain, for being patient with me and explaining the circumstances to me."

"It is my pleasure, Lady."

Arthur spoke up, seeing that that conversation was now closed. "What does Nazneen mean? I have heard Galahad say it often in your presence and out of it."

"'Nazneen' is a Sarmatian word." Gawain explained.

Lancelot nodded, picking up the explanation from there. "It is a term usually given to an especially beloved woman or child."

Arthur nodded, smiling. "Well then, it would seem that Galahad has a soft spot after all. He's always so temperamental."

Jols came over, smiling at Morgaine. "My lady," he greeted her.

"Good morning, Jols," she returned with a big smile. She had grown fond of the gentle groom.

"I have found you a more appropriate horse. Jezebel just wasn't suitable to your skill."

Morgaine grinned broadly, startling him with her radiance. "Really?"

"Yes, she is a yearling and as yet, unnamed. She's young, agile, high-spirited, and a handful, but looking at your ease with a murderess like Jezebel, I think you'll suit each other fine. Maybe you might stop by the stables after breakfast and help me name her?"

Morgaine nodded happily. "I will do so, Jols, thank you."

Jols nodded, nodding briskly at all the Knights, before moving away. Lancelot and Arthur both caught the gentle blush on the man's cheeks. They hid their smiles, determining to talk about it later. Morgaine could hardly sit still the rest of the meal, bouncing names off of Gawain, never waiting for a response before suggesting another. Finally, Gawain laughed heartily, and spoke, "Easy, Lady. How 'bout I go with you after breakfast, and I'll help you decide on a name for her?"

"Oh, would you, Gawain?"

"Absolutely, someone's got to keep an eye on you while Galahad's unavailable. Otherwise, you'll get lost again."

She blushed, recalling the incident. "Thank you, Gawain."

"My pleasure, Lady."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

As soon as Morgaine finished eating, she started to fidget, unable to keep still. The three Knights seated with her chuckled to themselves, amused by her childlike enthusiasm when she was usually so grown-up. She was not called the "Wise Child" among the people of the Wall for no reason. Finally, they had finished eating and Gawain wiped his mouth before standing. "Can we go now, Gawain?"

"Yes, Child, we can go now. Come on," he teased, before following her skipping form from the dining hall.

It was just after the doors shut that Kay spoke up. "How do we know we can trust her, Arthur? She just came back from a week with the Woads."

Lancelot looked at Kay incredulously. "Do you honestly think she would have come back if she had given them the secrets to the Wall? That would have put her in just as much danger as it put us."

Dagonet stood and spoke, "I trust her."

Everyone whirled to stare at him. Dagonet was usually silent, but when he spoke, people listened….if only to hear what it was that he had to say. Bors turned to Tristan. "What do you think, Tristan?"

"She is to be trusted. She treats all around her with respect and deference. She speaks softly, knowing that she doesn't need to shout to be heard. She is wise, and she heals the people of the village. They like her."

"And when the next Woad attack comes, on whose side will she stand?" a young Knight named Sam inquired.

"She will pray for the wellbeing of those she loves. She will ask her Gods to protect Arthur, Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot, because they have been kind to her, and she will ask them to protect Merlin because he is her Dark Father. But she will not take sides with the Romans against the Woads, nor will she condone the killing of Knights at the hands of the Woads. It is not her way."

Bors shrugged, taking a swallow of his ale. "If Dag trusts her, I will trust her. But that doesn't mean that I'll be letting the Woad child be warming my bed anytime soon."

Arthur chuckled, speaking just loudly enough for Lancelot to hear. "She already has a bed to warm."

Lancelot turned to look at him. "Oh really?"

"Galahad stayed with her in her bed last night. I have a feeling that there will be no separating them after this."

"You doubted it?" Lancelot asked, to which Arthur only chuckled and sipped his ale, before finishing his meal in silence.

Gawain followed Morgaine quietly as she ran as quickly as she could to the stables. "Where is she Jols?" she begged the groom, her eyes wide and filled with joy.

"She's in the far back stall."

Morgaine ran to the stall door, climbing up and staring at the exquisite white mare lying amongst the freshly lain hay. "She's beautiful."

"All white Arabian. The Roman horse traders brought her for the garrison's use, but no man can ride her. They told me to put her down, but I thought that you could use a good horse."

"Mary-Megan," Morgaine announced, proudly.

"Mary-Megan? For the mare?"

"Why not? 'Mary' means 'sea of bitterness' and 'Megan' means 'pearls'. So, 'sea of bitterness and pearls'."

"Why sea of bitterness?"

"You said she won't let any man ride her. She might have been treated badly, once upon a time, and might still harbor bitterness for all men, associating them with the man who mistreated her. So let's see how she might take to a woman."

Jols nodded at the sound of her sound logic, both men coming to the stall, as Morgaine slipped inside. "Hey girl. I'm Morgaine. Let's get you saddled up, all right?"

The mare rolled to her feet, standing obediently as Morgaine prepared her to ride. Gripping the bridle, she led her out of the stall and into open area. Fitting her foot into the stirrup, she swung up gracefully. Mary-Megan tossed her head, but stood motionless. "Good girl," Morgaine soothed in Sarmatian.

Putting her through her paces, Morgaine nodded at Jols decisively. "What do you think?"

"Let her run, my lady. She could use it, after having been so idle for so long."

Morgaine smiled, turning the horse toward the stable doors and setting out at a slow canter. Once away from the buildings, she dug the heels of her boots into the mare's sides, shouting, "Hai! Hai!"

The horse immediately lengthened stride, breaking out into a carefree, all out gallop. Morgaine bent close, thanking Jols silently for the breeches and tunic he's appropriated from a stable boy. Her plait came undone, her hair flying out behind her as horse and rider sailed across the grasslands as one.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Arthur and Lancelot stood on the battlements, when Jols and Gawain came running up the stairs, Gawain holding a scope in his hands. Putting the instrument to his eye, Gawain breathed in awe, "Damn, but the woman can ride. Look at her go! They're flying over the terrain."

"Who?" Arthur asked.

"Morgaine and her new mare, Mary-Megan. Look there," Gawain instructed, handing his commander the scope.

Arthur looked through the glass, finding Morgaine easily and smiled at her light-heartedness. Morgaine was streaking across the plain, a big grin on her face. She controlled the horse effortlessly, using only her knees, calves, and the weight of her body, the reins sitting relaxed in her capable grip. She reminded Arthur of a particular Briton horse goddess, the Queen Rhiannon, who had stolen the heart of King Pwyll in a horseback race. "She belongs on a horse, that's for sure. I think I might start to call her Rhiannon." Arthur chuckled, handing the glass back to Gawain, who raised it to his eyes once again.

"I wish Galahad could see this." Gawain muttered under his breath.

Jols chuckled. "It would suit her, Arthur. To be called after such a goddess would suit your sister very well."

"Smitten, are we Jols?" Gawain teased, his gaze focused on his best friend's lover. He had been serious about keeping an eye on her when Galahad couldn't do so.

Jols blushed, before clearing his throat determinedly. "Of course not,

Gawain, don't be ridiculous."

Arthur and Lancelot exchanged amused glances, while Gawain managed to hold in his grin purely by strength of will. "Come, I'm sure you and I have chores, Jols," Lancelot said, leading off the disgruntled groom.

Arthur stood at the wall, watching the dark shape of Morgaine as she rode. "Gawain, go after her and stay close to her. The Woads have been much too quiet lately."

Gawain nodded at Arthur, shutting the glass with a practiced shove of his hand and running for the stables. Saddling his gelding took no time at all, and then he was after her. The gelding caught up with Morgaine easily. At the sight of Gawain's horse pounding across the earth neck and neck with hers, Morgaine began to slow up. She pulled back on the reins, calling out softly, "Ho!"

Leaning forward, she patted Mary-Megan's neck as she walked the horse down. "What's wrong, Gawain?"

Gawain shook his head, walking his gelding alongside hers. "Nothing is wrong, Lady. Arthur sent me to keep an eye on you. He's been worried that the Woads have been too quiet."

Morgaine nodded, before straightening slightly, eyes dark and alert. "Come, we must go back to the Wall, Gawain. There is trouble brewing, and it doesn't bear well for any Knight outside the safety of the Wall."

Gawain nodded, trusting her judgment and wheeling the steed around toward the Wall. Morgaine followed him, looking back over her shoulder in concern at the eerie silence of the woods. Gawain flinched as an arrow buried itself into his arm, just barely slipping under the skin, before stopping, the head gleaming red with blood, while the black fletching proclaimed those un loyal to Merlin. "Faster, Gawain," Morgaine called, slapping the horse on the rump with her reins.

The gelding lengthened stride, matching Mary-Megan step for step. At last they burst into the safety of the Wall. Helping Gawain dismount one-handed, she pointed at a guard. "Tell Arthur of the attack. Call the Knights together. They will need to be ready for a fight."

"Galahad?" Gawain asked quietly, knowing that Galahad had been absent since drawn from his breakfast earlier in the morning.

"Galahad is my room. Wake him on your way to the barracks. And then go to your bedroll and sit down. You look like you're about to fall over."

Gawain nodded and the two split ways. Gawain staggered toward his chamber, his good hand holding his still skewered arm close to his body, while Morgaine led both horses to the stables. She was just lifting the saddle from the gelding, who she had learned from Jols was called Brute, when the Knights streamed inside. They stopped at the sight of her handling Brute. "Where's Gawain?"

"He is of no use to anyone with an arrow in his arm. You'll have to leave him behind."

"And Galahad?" Kay accused.

Galahad's voice spoke from behind them. "I'm here."

Kay looked back at him, seeing Galahad's fury reflected in his expressive green eyes. Looking away, he went to his horse. Galahad pushed past his fellows, coming to Morgaine's side. "I've got Brute. You go tend to Gawain," he insisted quietly, placing a gentle hand over the one of hers that held the brush.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, before speaking urgently in Sarmatian. "Merlin would have taken great pains to keep you alive, Sarmatian."


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I use a phrase from the movie in this. I don't own that phrase. It's starting to get to where the story comes in to play with the pretty characters. Again, I don't own this story. Or anything in it.

Chapter Thirteen

"Nazneen, what's wrong?" he replied in Sarmatian, his hands coming up to cup her face.

"The fletching on the arrow was black. These are men untouched by Merlin and his influence. They have long been enemies of the Woads. They relish the kill, and indeed have killed their own kind for the sport. We call them Saxons. Flaxen haired and dangerous, they are ruthless. They only claim what they kill and they only kill everything. Be careful."

Galahad nodded, looking down into her eyes. "I'll be back. Be safe and stay inside the Wall. Take care of Gawain for me, all right? And tell Gawain I'll keep an eye on Gareth for him."

Morgaine nodded and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent. Galahad bent his head to hers and whispered comfort to her in the Sarmatian tongue. Finally, he tilted her face up to him, kissing her breathless, before sending her into the stall. Coming out in her original gown, she kissed Galahad once more and hugged both Lancelot and Arthur. Both Lancelot and Arthur nodded at her meaningful glance toward Galahad's oblivious form. She smiled back before gripping her gown in her fists and running from the stables with tears standing brightly in her eyes.

Arthur swung atop his warhorse, looking at Galahad as he did the same. "What did my sister tell you?"

"She told me that Merlin would have taken great pains to keep me alive. But the attackers are not Woads. They're called Saxons. They relish the kill and will kill their own kind for sport. They're dangerous and deadly. To quote her verbatim, 'They only claim what they kill, and they only kill everything.' I think what she's trying to warn us , is to be on our guard and keep an eye on each others backs, because I doubt these Saxons will be all that concerned with stabbing one in the back."

Sam, Kay and Gareth's eyes narrowed at the first statement. They resolved to grill him about it later, when he didn't have Arthur or Lancelot keeping watch over him. Arthur nodded at the advice, before looking at his men. "Pair up. Gareth, you're with Galahad. Kay, you're with Sam. Lancelot, you're with me. Bors and Dagonet; Tristan and Percival; Bedivere and Lucan; Casper and Doran. Keep an eye on each other and hopefully, we'll all come back alive."

They nodded and rode out to do battle. Morgaine arrived at the dormitory with supplies, just as the first clang of iron against iron was heard. She flinched, trying to keep her mind on Gawain's injury and off the battlefield where her brother, friend and lover were fighting for their lives. Grabbing a knife, she shoved it into the smoking coals and turned to face Gawain. His face was unnaturally pale and he swayed where he sat. "Gawain?"

He looked up at her, smiling slightly to ease her anxiety. "I'm tired. And it hurts."

"I'm sure it does. Just a second more," she encouraged, letting him lay back against the pillows.

A tourniquet around his upper arm cut off most of the blood as she poured water over the heated blade to cool it and them sliced quick and deep through the extended flesh to extract the arrow. Gawain flinched widely, as she pulled the arrow away from the gash and tossed it into the corner across the room. Pressing a pad to the gash, she tightened her grip against his bicep until the blood stopped gushing. She held up a leather strap. "Slip this between your teeth and bite down on it."

"Why?"

"So you don't bite down on your tongue."

Gawain nodded and did as told, before Morgaine slipped a cloth into a bowl of spirits, using the alcohol to cleanse the wound. He grimaced, pressing his head into the wall behind him. Morgaine stitched the wound quickly, before wrapping the arm in soft cotton gauze. "You'll be all right. Give the arm about a week to mend and you'll be out on active duty again."

Gawain nodded and slumped back into the cot, his eyes slipping closed and falling into slumber. She tugged off his boots and drew up the blanket, before leaving him alone in his exhaustion. Moving to the battlements, she stood alone, a solemn observer of the slaughter and mayhem going on below her. Her eyes easily picked out the three heads she loved. All three were dark and well-favored, faces set in grim lines. Lancelot's twin swords flashed ruthlessly, debilitating some and beheading others; while Galahad killed from afar, his bow releasing arrows effortlessly, the shafts always finding their mark. Arthur was battling with a young warrior, bleeding heavily from a gash in the head.

Morgaine watched, concerned, as Bedivere -one of the older and crueler Knights- cried out as a Saxon bolt buried deeply into his chest, piercing his armor easily. The archer fell dead seconds later as Galahad picked him out and let an arrow fly, burying the head in his eye-socket. Only Morgaine could see the weight that killing him had impressed on her lover, the guilt and hatred shining in his expressive green eyes. She continued to stand, even as the battle ended and the Saxons retreated from the field. Lucan grabbed Bedivere's arm and hauled him into the saddle in front of him and taking off at a hard gallop for the Wall.

Morgaine ran down the steps of the Wall, meeting them in the stables where they stood around him anxiously. "Move!" she ordered, pushing through them and crouching at his side.

Her hands were firm but gentle as they examined the wound. She smiled at him, her concern tingeing her words. "Just rest, Sir Bedivere."

Standing, she joined Arthur, Lancelot and Galahad at the stable doors. Arthur looked at her expectantly, to which she shook her head. Her fingers rubbed tiredly against her forehead. "He won't make it, Arthur. The bolt pierced the lungs. He's drowning to death in his own blood."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Galahad asked quietly, his heart crushed at the thought of loosing another Knight and friend.

"I can give him poppy syrup to ease the pain, but he won't last the night," she insisted, taking Galahad's hands in both of her own in an attempt to comfort. She felt an ache in her heart as he recoiled from her, retreating into himself.

"Can you kill him? Make it painless?" Lancelot asked quietly.

Morgaine recoiled, looking at first him and then Arthur, as Arthur nodded

in agreement. "Are you asking me to kill a man in cold blood?"

"No, Morgaine, I'm asking you to show mercy to a dying man." Arthur explained, taking her shoulders gently between his palms. "There's nothing anyone can do, Morgaine; which means the only thing to do is to let him die with some dignity."

Morgaine nodded, looking at Galahad for a moment. "Could you get the mushrooms in my room, Sarmatian?" she asked in his home-language.

Galahad nodded and left silently without a look back. Morgaine looked up at Arthur with a teary smile. "I should have known he'd retreat from me."

Arthur wrapped her in his arms, holding her close to him and letting her cry. When Galahad arrived with the powder, the stables had cleared but for Arthur, Lancelot, Morgaine, and Bedivere's best friend, Lucan. Lucan was too distraught to notice as Morgaine took the bag silently and crushed a couple of mushrooms between the palms of her hands and into a goblet of cool, clear water. Coming to his side, she knelt next to him. "Drink this, Knight. It will put you to sleep," she told him, the lie gliding effortlessly off her tongue, "and when you wake, you'll be in a better place."

He sipped from the goblet, his eyes slipping closed. Turning to look at Lucan and Lancelot, she ordered, "Take him to the infirmary."

Lancelot nodded, helping Lucan lift the injured Knight and carry him to a small room next to sick bay. When they were in the room and Bedivere's body had been lain on the cot, she extracted the arrow carefully and bandaged the wound, placing a gentle hand to Lucan's shoulder before leaving the room. Galahad and Arthur stood outside, arguing with Bors and Dagonet quietly. Galahad saw her first and held out an arm to her. Knowing he needed the comfort just as much as she did, she stepped into him and buried her face in his tunic. He smelt of sweat, leather and horse, and the Dark Child breathed deeply, relishing the scent of him, safe and in her arms.

"Is it done?" Arthur asked quietly in Latin, a language neither Bors nor Dagonet were acquainted with.

"It is done. It will be painless; he will simply slip away in his sleep," she responded in kind.

Arthur nodded, his eyes sorrowful as they met hers. "I'm sorry I asked this of you, Morgaine."

Morgaine waved her hand negligently. "I understand why you asked it, Arthur," she said, before switching to Briton, "Come, let's see to that gash. And then, reset your shoulder, Galahad. Bors, your backside will need to be cleansed and the knife wound to your shoulder will need to be cauterized, Dagonet."

The two Knights looked at each other in surprise, before following Galahad and Arthur to the main infirmary room, leaving Lucan to his grief and goodbyes. She first cleansed and stitched the gash in Arthur's forehead, before cauterizing the stab wound in Dagonet's shoulder. Bors balked at having a woman see to the bloody bruise where a Saxon mace had bounced off his armor, but Arthur and Lancelot held him facedown as Morgaine did what she could. When the serious wounds and injuries were accomplished and tended to, she turned to face Galahad.

"I don't remember you getting an injury to your shoulder, Galahad," she pointed out, examining the arm gently, before whipping it up and in.

Galahad nodded, with a grimace and a one-shouldered nonchalant shrug. "A Saxon attacked me from behind. I was lucky I moved before he took it off for me instead of just dislocating it."

Morgaine didn't even smile at the morbid joke, placing the misused limb in a sling, before leaving the room silently. Galahad looked at Arthur, speaking quietly, "And you think I have a problem killing people."

Arthur nodded silently, joined by a limping Lancelot moments later. Bors looked at Galahad, speaking harshly, "What has the witch done?"

Lucan let out an almighty wail then as Bedivere simply stopped breathing. "Did she murder Vere?" Bors roared.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"No, she helped him fall asleep. You've seen wounds like that, Bors. He would not have made it through the night." Lancelot explained, one hand gripping Arthur's shoulder tightly as Arthur mourned the dead silently.

"I asked her to help him, Bors, so leave her be." Arthur replied.

While they stood silent and mournful, Galahad slipped away from them, going in search of Morgaine. He arrived first at the dorms, thinking Morgaine might be at Gawain's bedside, tending to him. Gawain was laying back against pillows, sleeping soundly, the bandage clean and sound. Smiling at his friend, he shut the door and left again. Next he went to the stables, finding Jols tending to Bedivere's stallion. "Vere's dead, Jols." Galahad told him quietly.

Jols looked back over his shoulder with a sad smile. "I heard already. Lucan's on a rampage, looking for his murderess. Morgaine didn't kill him, did she?"

"No, she simply put him to sleep. He slipped away while he slept."

Jols nodded, sighing silently. "You might find her on the battlements."

Galahad nodded, smiling at him. Everyone, it would appear, fancied Morgaine a little bit. So how, in the name of Arthur's God, had he been so lucky as to catch her? Jogging up the stairs, he found Morgaine curled up in the corner, staring at the woods outside the Wall where her people, the Woads, lived and waited. "Nazneen?"

She looked back at him, surprised that he'd found her, before allowing a sad smile at him. "I wonder what Merlin would say if he knew I used his teachings to help me kill a man."

"You didn't kill him Nazneen, do you hear me? The bolt killed him. You eased his pain. This is not your doing. This was not your doing!"

"I used the mushrooms, Sarmatian. I poisoned him, allowing him to slip away into the afterlife."

"If you hadn't, he would have been in agony until he died, Nazneen. If he could have, he could have fought to stay with us. He didn't. This is not your fault."

Morgaine looked back out over the Wall, towards the woods, and sighed.

"Mushrooms are so clean. Quick, painless, the patient simply falls asleep."

Galahad knelt in front of her, taking his arm from its sling and stroking away the hair from her cherubic face. "Listen to me, Nazneen. You were only doing as Arthur asked of you. You did nothing wrong. I couldn't have watched another Knight die in agony, Nazneen, I have seen it too many times already. I am grateful for what you have done. And when Lucan comes to his senses, and the grief no longer tinges his thoughts, he too will be grateful. He didn't suffer, and for that we will all thank you."

Arthur and Lancelot were looking for, alternately, Galahad, Morgaine and Lucan; the former so as to find the second so as to protect her from the latter. Lancelot saw the back of Galahad first and pointed. "There they are."

Arthur nodded, both climbing the steps. "Morgaine, Galahad!" he called, approaching them.

They looked back at him. "Yes, Arthur?"

"Lucan is looking for revenge."

"Then let him have it." Morgaine replied, standing quietly.

Galahad looked up at her with a frown, and yanked her back down into her hiding place. "I have talked to Jols, I know this."

"Jols is saddling Mary-Megan. Morgaine, you are going away for about a week, to let all of this blow over. I'm going to have a meeting in the Round Table Chamber tomorrow, after the burial. I am going to tell them that you put him to sleep and he slipped away on his own. There will be no mention of the mushrooms at all. The four of us, and Gawain -should you chose to tell him- alone will know that they were used. Am I understood?"

Morgaine and Galahad nodded. Lancelot held out two packed saddlebags. "There's clothing and supplies in here. Go spend time with Merlin, Morgaine. We will send Galahad for you when the time comes."

She nodded, and took the saddlebags. "Thank you."

Arthur hugged her tightly. "I asked this of you, Morgaine. I am going to solve this."

Morgaine nodded and allowed Galahad to take her down the secret passage to the stables. When they were gone, Arthur looked at Lancelot. "Let's go stall Lucan so that she can get out of the Wall alive."

In the darkness of the tunnel, she changed into her stable boy get-up. Galahad assisted her quietly with the boots, before taking her into his arms. "Be careful, Nazneen. I could not bear it if something happened to you."

"As I couldn't if you were injured. The Saxons don't take well to defeat, Sarmatian. Be careful."

He nodded and then took her hand, leading her the rest of the way through the tunnel, At the end, he reached up over his head and displaced the trapdoor slightly, listening for the sounds of anyone prowling around. The trapdoor lifted the rest of the way and Jols held out a hand to assist Morgaine from the tunnel. Galahad put his hands about her waist and handed her up to the groom, before climbing out gingerly himself. Morgaine tied the saddlebags to the saddle, before swinging up into the saddle. "I shall miss you, Lady." Jols told her quietly.

"And I shall miss you, Jols, thank you so much for your help."

"That's quite all right, Lady. I'll go have the guards open the gate and keep watch for you. Galahad, just shove the stable doors open. Ride hard and stop for nothing. You're an amazing rider, Morgaine, you'll be fine."

Morgaine nodded, watching him leave the stables. Galahad swung up behind her, pulling her back against him. "Be careful, Nazneen."

"I will, Sarmatian. You do the same."

"Always. I love you, Morgaine," he confessed quietly.

"And I love you, Galahad. I shall see you soon."

He kissed her gently, before swinging down from the mare. Going to the stable doors, he looked at her once more. "Ready?"

She nodded, gathering the reins. "I am."

Taking a deep breath, he shoved the doors open. Morgaine shoved her heels into Mary-Megan's sides and they were gone, streaking through the doors, village and out the gates. Galahad ran for the battlements, watching her ride like the wind towards the woods where her people awaited her. "I love you, Nazneen," came his quiet murmur, before she disappeared into the trees and out of sight.

Leaving the battlements, he went to Arthur's chamber. Knocking once, he entered at Arthur's call. "She's gone, Arthur. Safely in the woods."

"Good. I've put Lucan in charge of Bedivere's burial, so there's no way she'll be caught."

Galahad nodded, before leaving the room again.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

A week later, a single Woad rider came to the Wall, shooting an arrow up and over the battlements. The arrow stuck in the ground, prompting everyone to stop and stare at it. Gawain and Galahad were the closest to it, causing Gawain to step forward and pull it from the ground. His eyes widened at the sight of a note wrapped tightly around the shaft. He unwrapped it and started slightly to see Galahad's name across the front. "It's for you," he told his friend, handing the note to him.

Galahad looked at him curiously, before taking it from him. "Nazneen," he breathed, moving away to read it alone.

Gawain watched him go, keeping him close in case he would need him. Galahad went into the stables, sitting on a bale of hay outside Dar's stall. Opening it with shaking hands, he leaned back and read quietly.

_My dearest Sarmatian,_

_If you read this, my messenger managed to make it to the Wall before you were sent to retrieve me. Much has happened since I have left. When I arrived at my father's village, I was horrified to learn that plague swept through our ranks like wildfire. It is not safe for you to come here. I would ask that you stay within the safety of the Wall. Quarantine yourself from the outside world, my love. That is your only hope. _

_If I should never make it back to you, know that you were on my mind at the last. And when you think of me, make a wish on the moon that we might be reunited again one day. I love you, Galahad of Sarmatia. You are all I have ever dreamed of. _

_Tell Gawain to take care of himself, and stay close to each other. Protect each other for me. Tell Lancelot to keep a close eye on Arthur and all that he loves. He carries so much on his own shoulders. And, most importantly, tell Arthur how much I love him. I have never had a brother before, even among my father's sons. _

_Please, stay safe. Be happy and stay alive. Return to Sarmatia and have a family. That is all I ask of you._

_I love you with all of my heart, Sarmatian._

_Forever yours, _

_Your "Nazneen"_

_ Morgaine."_

Galahad slumped back against the stall, tears glistening in his eyes. Gawain spoke quietly. "What news from Lady Morgaine?"

"There is plague among the Woads. I am not to go and retrieve her. She told me to do some stuff that I'm not sure I can do without her."

Gawain nodded, his heart-breaking for his friend. "She's not dead yet, Galahad. Have faith in that. Come, we must tell Arthur."

Galahad nodded, folding up the letter carefully, before following Gawain to the Chamber of the Round Table where the Knights were holding council. Arthur looked up. "You're late."

Galahad looked up at Arthur, startling him with the tears in his eyes. "There's been news. From Morgaine," he explained, holding out the letter with shaking hands. Gawain looked on silently, feeling his heart splinter on his friend's behalf. "It's not good news, Arthur. There is plague among the Woads."

Arthur snatched the letter and opened it, reading it through. His heart swelled at the point where she said to tell him that she loved him, but seconds later it crushed at the realization of what this meant. Looking up at Galahad, he was surprised to see him gone. "Where'd Galahad go?"

"He ran out of here like a bat out of hell. Gawain went after him."

"It's just as well. Barricade the Wall. Let no foreigner or unknown come inside. There is plague running through the countryside. We must protect ourselves now, or there shall be none of us left."

"What of Morgaine?" Lancelot inquired anxiously. Morgaine had been like a younger sister to him as well, someone to tease and love like he loved the family he'd left behind.

"She is with the Woads," Arthur elaborated, handing him the letter.

Lancelot read it silently, before folding it up again. "We must have faith, Arthur. She is not dead yet."

Arthur nodded, before turning and leaving the Chamber. Lancelot turned to look at his fellow Knights. "Everyone is to stay within the garrison. No one is to leave the Wall. That is a direct order. Bors, keep Vanora and the bastards close to you."

Bors nodded and watched as Lancelot left the Chamber after Arthur.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Two years passed and Morgaine never returned. Galahad grew hard and cold, flirting with many…bedding none. His temper became scarily precarious, and he was prone to exploding at anyone at any given moment. Only Gawain had the ability to ease his anger, having seen how he had loved Morgaine firsthand. Galahad slept little and ate less. When he did sleep, his nightmares were of Morgaine, always just out of reach, interspersed with the faces of the men he'd killed.

Finally, it came time for their emancipation from Rome and their return back to their homes. With Morgaine gone, it was all Galahad had to hope for. But first they had to make sure that the Bishop Germanius made it to the Wall safely. There were only six Knights left of the original thirty; Lancelot, Gawain, Dagonet, Bors, Tristan and Galahad himself, with Arthur forever and always their caring commander. Tristan looked over at Arthur at the sight of the Bishop's caravan. "The caravan, as promised."

"Look Bors, your freedom awaits you," Galahad laughed, pleased to see that something was going right.

Bors took a deep breath, laughing back, "I can almost taste it."

Then the Woads attacked it and Galahad spoke bitterly, "And the Woads."

"Let's go."

The battle raged on and at last, Arthur had Merlin's "second-in-command" at his mercy. He drew his sword back to execute him, before he heard a voice on the wind, _"Arthur, no; spare him. For my sake. Arthur…."_

Arthur's heart swelled to hear that voice. It was Morgaine's voice, the guardian angel of the Knights. Looking at the axe the man had dropped, he nodded, the sword tip against the other man's neck. "Pick it up."

He did as told, visibly surprised when Arthur turned his back and moved away. "What a bloody mess," Bors told him, gesturing to the dead man inside, an arrow protruding completely through his skull.

Arthur shook his head. "That is not Bishop Germanius."

On the ride back to the Wall, Galahad was the first to proclaim his uneasiness. "I don't like him, that Roman. If he's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?"

Gawain looked across Bors at him, grinning cheekily, "Is this your happy face?"

Bors burst into laughter, causing Galahad moments later to do the same. Gawain continued, "Galahad, do you still not know the Romans? They don't scratch their asses without a ceremony."

"Why don't you just kill him and discharge yourself after?" Bors inquired.

Galahad shook his head. "I don't kill for pleasure, unlike some."

The target of this comment, Tristan, had ridden up and even then was riding to his left. He turned to look at Galahad, as serious as always, "Well, you should try it someday. You might get a taste for it."

Galahad turned stony and Gawain could practically hear the memories of Morgaine running like wild horses rampaging through his head. "It's part of you. It's in your blood."

Galahad shook his head sharply, and Gawain knew that he was furious now. "No, no, no. No." he insisted, with a self-deprecating laugh. "After tomorrow, this is all a bad memory. Morgaine, the Wall, all of it."

Gawain sighed sadly as Bors said, "Oh."

The blond Knight watched his friend move his horse around to Gawain's other side before speaking to Bors. "I've often thought about what going home would mean after all this. What'll I do? It's different for Galahad. I have been in this life longer than the other. So much for home. It's not so clear in my memory."

"You speak for yourself. It's cold back there, and everyone I know is dead and buried. Besides, I have, I think, a dozen children."

Gawain corrected him quickly, "Eleven," to which Bors turned to stare at him sternly. "You listen. When the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of this place. I'll be governor of my own village and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser. Won't you Dag?" he called over his shoulder to the silent Knight. Dagonet studiously ignored him.

"First thing I will do when I get home is find myself a beautiful Sarmatian woman." Gawain proclaimed, picturing Morgaine's laughing face and gentle smile in mind's eye. "Preferably with blacker than midnight hair and ocean blue eyes."

Bors turned to look at Gawain, obviously not making the connection between Morgaine and the woman he described, though Galahad made the connection easily. "A beautiful Sarmatian woman? Why do you think we left in the first place?" he asked rhetorically, before mooing as though he were a disgruntled milk cow.

Gawain rolled his eyes, before Galahad on his other side inquired, "If there are no beautiful Sarmatian women, how do you explain Morgaine?" just as Lancelot joined their group.

"She was part Roman, and part Briton. She wasn't all cow." Bors explained philosophically. "And what about you, Lancelot? What are your plans for home?"

"Well if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims, I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house. His wife will enjoy the company."

Gawain exchanged an exasperated look with Galahad, who had a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, before speaking, "I see. And what will I be doing?"

Lancelot grinned cheekily, "Wondering at your good fortune that all of your children look like me."

Gawain glared, unable to reconcile the idea of Morgaine with Lancelot. "Is this before or after I hit you with my ax?" he muttered as Lancelot rode away, followed by Galahad's and Bors' laughter. Galahad had always known that his best friend was in love with Morgaine, though he'd never done anything to jeopardize his friendship with Galahad; it seemed that during her time at the Wall, everyone had fallen in love with her. And surprisingly, though it had made Galahad insanely jealous when it was a Roman soldier or even a fellow Knight, it had never bothered him when it had been Gawain. And thus, he knew what type of woman Gawain was hoping to find in Sarmatia, a woman like Morgaine.

Meanwhile Lancelot had ridden up to join Arthur. "And what will you do, Arthur, when you return to your beloved Rome?'

"Give thanks to God that I survived to see it."

Lancelot scoffed. "You and your God. You disturb me. If Morgaine could only hear you now."

"I want peace, Lancelot, peace from the killing, the dreams, her memory. I've had enough of this place," he paused, looking sidelong at his best friend, "You should visit me."

"Ah!" came the jeer that made Arthur, and the rest of the Knights smile; everyone knew that Lancelot would never visit Rome.

"It's a magnificent place, Rome. Ordered, civilized, advanced."

"A breeding ground of arrogant fools," Lancelot insisted, looking out between his horse's ears, squinting against a rare moment of Briton sun.

"The greatest minds in all the lands have come together in one sacred place to help make mankind free. And the best part? It is far away from here."

Lancelot smiled, before inquiring, "And the women?"

Everyone laughed at the typically Lancelot response, before they rode into the Wall and through the gates, into their last day as servants of Rome.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

And so it was that that night found Arthur and his Knights in their Chamber of the Round Table, awaiting the arrival of Bishop Germanius. The door opened and the Bishops' sniveling little cleric, Horace, entered the room. "His eminence, Bishop Naius Germanius," he announced, before the Bishop entered the room.

Both attendant and Bishop looked shocked and scandalized at the sight of a round table. Horace turned to face Jols, asking, "A round table? What sort of evil is this?"

Jols looked at him solemnly, remembering another face that Arthur had once wanted nothing more than for her to be free, "Arthur says that 'For men to be men, they must first all be equal.'"

Bishop Germanius looked around at the six Knights, counting the empty chairs. "I was given to understand that there would be more of you."

"There were. We have been fighting here for 15 years, Bishop."

"Of course. Arthur and his Knights have served with courage to maintain the honor of Rome's empire on this last outpost of our glory."

Galahad and Gawain took their goblets, and sat back in their chairs. It had been two years since Morgaine had left the Wall and never returned. Both wanted simply to get their discharges and leave the wretched land that had killed her and go home to their families in Sarmatia. Bishop Germanius continued undeterred. "Rome is much indebted to you noble Knights. To your final days as servants to the empire."

That brought Galahad's head up, to which Lancelot remarked, "Day. Not days."

"The Pope's taken a personal interest in you. He inquires after each of you. And is curious to know if your Knights have converted to the word of Our Savior or…?"

Arthur shook his head slightly at Galahad's almost silent snort. "They retain the religion of their forefathers. I have never questioned that."

"Of course, of course," Germanius said, before speaking the next part as though it was filthy, "They are pagans, hm?"

It took Gawain's hand on his arm to keep Galahad in his seat. He knew what had upset him; Morgaine had been pagan and had been the best thing to happen to the both of them. "For our part, the church has deemed such beliefs innocence. But, you Arthur, you're path to God is through Pelagius? I saw his image in your room."

Arthur smiled slightly, remembering the only other family that remained to him. "He took my father's place for me. His teaching on free will and equality have been a great influence. I look forward to our reunion in Rome."

The Bishop immediately looked uncomfortable, giving a tiny sigh, "Ah. Well, Rome awaits your arrival with great anticipation. You are a hero. In Rome, you'll live out your days in honor and wealth. Alas," he said, before giving a world-weary sigh, "Alas, we are all players in an ever-changing world. Barbarians from every corner are almost at Rome's door. Because of this, Rome and the Holy Father have decided to removed ourselves from indefensible outposts, such as Britain. What will become of Britain is not our concern anymore. I suppose the Saxons will claim it soon."

Both Gawain and Galahad jerked. Arthur spoke, "Saxons?"

"Yes," he replied, apparently not noticing the slight flinch that ran through Arthur, Lancelot, Gawain or Galahad. He continued, undeterred, "In the North a massive Saxon incursion is building."

Lancelot spoke next, quoting something that Morgaine had said many years ago. "The Saxons only claim what they kill."

Gawain completed the thought, "And they only kill everything."

Galahad stood, his eyes burning with fury and hatred. "So you will just leave the land to the Woads," he questioned rhetorically, his eyes hardening further at the reminder of Morgaine's people. "I risked my life for nothing."

"Hm." Obviously uncomfortable with this line of questioning, Bishop pushed past the questions and statements, taking the box that Horace offered. "Gentlemen, your discharge papers with safe conduct throughout that Roman Empire. But first I must have a word with your commander."

The Knights continued to stand where they were, staring at the scrolls inside the box. The Bishop's next words startled them out of their reverie, "In private."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"We have no secrets," Arthur insisted, looking at Galahad, who looked like he was about to explode at Germanius and add another twenty lashes to the ones he'd gotten the day before. He shook his head slightly, causing Galahad to relax a little bit and look down at the tabletop.

Galahad jumped slightly at Gawain's sudden touch on his shoulder, combined with the loud slam of the box's lid. "Come. Let's leave Roman business to Romans," Lancelot insisted, finishing the ale in his goblet.

"Let it go, Bors," came Dagonet's quiet advice as he left the Chamber, followed by an equally silent Tristan.

Arthur flicked his eyes at Galahad and Gawain, causing a slight nod on Lancelot's part as the Knights filed out of the room. Lancelot followed the two youngest Knights out of the Chamber and caught up with them quickly. "Galahad! Gawain! Wait a moment."

Galahad stopped, Gawain looking back at Lancelot with world-weary eyes. "Yes, Lance?"

"How are you feeling, Gal?"

"Tired. The nightmares are getting worse." Galahad confessed, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Gawain looked at the second-in-command, placing a comforting palm on Galahad's shoulder. "I was just about to insist that he go and get some rest."

"That sounds like a good idea, Galahad. Go to the dorm and get some sleep. That's an order."

Galahad nodded, before trudging toward Morgaine's chamber. Lancelot watched him go, before speaking to Gawain, "He still sleeps in her room?"

"Every night," Gawain said, before leaving the older man in the hall and moving toward the dormitories for some much needed rest of his own.

Lancelot sighed, knowing exactly how many times a night Galahad would leave his chamber and wander the halls unable to sleep, and how many times a night Gawain would get up to walk with him. They were still as accomplished and skilled as ever on the battlefield, but eventually the lack of sleep would catch up to them both. He would have watched over them, even if Arthur had not ordered it of him. He would have done it for her sake. For Morgaine.

She had loved Galahad with everything in her heart, and had loved both Arthur and Gawain as well. He himself had been promoted to the role of eldest brother, as she had surrounded herself with people she loved and adored. And who, in turn, had loved and adored her. Both of the young Knights had taken her disappearance harder than anyone. Even Arthur. And Lancelot knew from experience that Arthur's prayers, as much as he loved to mock him for them, always included a prayer for Morgaine's soul and her continuing happiness, if she was indeed somewhere alive in the world. Sighing, he left the hallway to get some rest of his own.

Meanwhile, Bishop Germanius and Arthur were talking. "Rome has issued a final order for you and your men."

Arthur's eyes widened in shock. "Final order?"

"You are to travel North to rescue the family of Marius Honorius, and return, in particular with Marius' son, Alecto. Alecto is the Pope's favorite godchild and pupil. It is his destiny to become a bishop, perhaps even Pope, one day."

"On this day, you ask this of my men. On _this_ day. They have risked their lives for 15 years for a cause not of their own. And now, on the day they are to be liberated, you send them on a mission which is far more dangerous that any other they have undertaken. You tell me, Bishop, how do I go to my men and tell them that instead of freedom, I offer death?"

"If your men are truly the Knights of legend, perhaps some will survive." There was a pause, and when Bishop Germanius spoke again, his lips had a cruel upward tilt, "If it is God's will." The stress he placed on that phrased stated clearly that Germanius thought "God's will" not very favorable on the matter. "Your men want to go home. And to get home, they must cross the entire breadth of the Roman Empire. Deserters would be hunted down like dogs. Will you defy the Pope, Arthur? Rome? God himself?"

"Everything I've done has been for the Church and Rome!" Arthur roared, furious at Germanius' accusation. "Do not mistake a loyal soldier for a fool, Germanius."

"Would you leave a defenseless Roman boy, destined to lead our Church, at the hands of the Saxons? Fulfill this mission and your men will receive their discharge. Their papers will be waiting here the moment they return. You have my word," the Bishop vowed, moving toward the door quickly.

"You think very hard upon that vow, Bishop, for I will hold you to it. Break it, and no Roman legion, papal army nor God himself will protect you. That is my word." Arthur threatened, menacingly, before pushing past him and leaving the Chamber of the Round Table and Germanius behind. Germanius stood there for many minutes, quietly shaking at the threat in Arthur's voice. He had no doubt that Arthur would carry out his threat and resolved to place the discharge papers somewhere safe, where no one could steal or misplace them.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Later that night, Galahad and Gawain had left their rooms and their equally fruitless attempts at sleep, joining the rest of the celebrating Knights at the table. Smiling at Bors' beautiful Sarmatian lover, Vanora, Galahad begged her to keep the rum and ale coming. He was intending to get well and thoroughly drunk. Maybe then, he'd be able to get some sleep. The two took over the knife throwing board, while Gawain seduced a pretty young barmaid. Galahad flirted with her shamelessly, but all the while wishing that she was Morgaine, with dark midnight black hair in place of the ugly, dirty flaxen yellow she did have and with Morgaine's flashing blue eyes that were always serene and calm, able to look into Galahad's soul, instead of her own muddy brown eyes.

Lancelot was gambling with a couple Roman soldiers when Vanora came over and inquired, "Who wants another drink?"

She sighed exasperatedly as Lancelot pulled her down into his lap. "When are you going to leave Bors and come home with me?"

Vanora reached back and slapped his cheek lightly. "My lover is watching you," she scolded, getting off his lap and bustling away.

Bors, who was holding his baby son, looked at Lancelot jealously, before looking down at the babe, much to Lancelot's amusement. The baby's plump cheeks and ruddy complexion reaffirmed the baby's father. "You look nothing like him. You're all Bors."

Gawain threw his knife, after which Galahad took his turn. The girl seated herself on Gawain's lap as Galahad lined up the shot and threw the blade. Gawain blew air through his lips in frustration as the knife buried itself into the bull's-eye. Just then another knife came from behind them, burying itself into the hilt of Galahad's. "Tristan…" Galahad groaned, before Gawain questioned, "How do you do that?"

Tristan pointed, explaining, "I aim for the middle."

Meanwhile, Vanora came back groaning, "They want more."

"Here. Be a mother to your son."

"Oh, come here." Vanora whispered, taking her son as Dagonet, her lover's silent best mate joined them at the counter.

"Dagonet, where you been? We've got plans to make," he insisted, before turning to Vanora. "Here, please. Sing."

"No," Vanora laughed half-heartedly.

"Just a last one," Bors insisted, pulling her inexorably toward the open area in the middle.

"No, I'm working."

"Shut up!" Bors roared at his fellow revelers, "Vanora will sing."

"No, no," Vanora protested, laughing, as there were immediate calls for a song.

"Sing about home," Galahad called, as Gawain put in his own two cents, "Don't drop the baby."

Vanora caught the baby against her hip, singing to him more than the other Knights. "Land of bear and land of eagles. Land that gave us birth and blessing. Land that called us ever homewards. We will go home across the mountains. We will go home. We will go home, we will go home across the mountains."

Galahad listened and mouthed along for a moment, before the words seemed to fade out and his eyes closed in remembrance of Morgaine. She had sang this song to him when they had returned from the Woad camp two years ago. The same day she left him behind. If he tried, he could almost transplant Vanora's voice with Morgaine's. The sound of that voice brought back many memories and a rush of tears, which he dashed quickly from his eyes. As he came back to himself, he could hear Vanora singing the end of the song, "Hear our singing, hear our longing. We will go home across the mountains. We will go home. We will go home. We will go home across the mountains."

Jols shouted at the end of her song, breaking the trance-like state that fallen over the Knights, "Arthur!"

Arthur turned toward his Knights as they shouted at him. Galahad spoke, teasing him quietly, "Arthur! You're not completely Roman yet, right?"

"Rus!" Bors called, joining the group after kissing both Vanora and the baby.

"Knights….brothers in arms….your courage and honor has been testedbeyond all limits."

"Yes," Gawain murmured, both him and Galahad looking momentarily at the floor.

"But I must ask you now for one further trial."

Bors spoke up, only half joking, "Drink."

"We must leave on a final mission for Rome before our freedom can be granted."

Galahad laughed disbelievingly, Gawain joining in. Galahad had been counting the days before he could leave ever since it was certain that Morgaine would not be returning to him. Gawain was waiting because he couldn't stay on this Gods-forsaken island and watch his friend hurt anymore. "Above the Wall, far to the North, there is a Roman family in need of rescue. They are trapped by Saxons. Our orders are to secure their safety."

Both Galahad and Gawain had stopped laughing by now. "Let the Romans take care of their own." Bors insisted.

"Above the Wall is Woad territory." Gawain reminded him, knowing that without Morgaine, they could no longer be guaranteed safe passage through that land.

"Our duty to Rome," Galahad started, before stopping. When he spoke again, his voice dripped with disdain, "if it was ever a duty, is done. Our pact with Rome is done." Everyone there could hear what he left unsaid. _"My allegiance to this place died with Morgaine. Rome is no longer my problem."_

"Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you. For you!" Bors reiterated, pointing at Arthur as though he was accusing him of something. "And instead of freedom, you want more blood? Our blood? You think more of Roman blood than you do of ours!"

"Bors! These are our orders. We leave at first light. And when we return, your freedom with be waiting for you. A freedom we can embrace with honor."

"I am a free man! I will choose my own fate!"

In the background, all of the Knights could hear Vanora trying to soothed her child. The babe could sense his father's distress and was crying loudly. "Yeah, yeah. We're all going to die someday. If it's a death from a Saxon hand that frightens you, stay home," Tristan said in his usual soft-spoken way.

"Listen, if your so eager to die, you can die right now," Galahad snapped, advancing menacingly on the unruffled Tristan.

Lancelot stepped forward, separating Galahad and Tristan effortlessly, saying, "Enough. Enough!"

Galahad didn't even pretend to hear him, shouting, "Home's all I've got to live for."

Dagonet spoke, trying to placate both sides. "The Romans have broken their word. We have the word of Arthur. That is good enough. I will prepare." Moving away, he spoke to Bors, who was still ranting furiously, "Bors? Are you coming?"

"Of course, I'm coming! Can't let you go on your own! You'll all get killed!" Rounding back on Arthur, he roared, "I'm just saying what you're thinking!" Turning back away again, he moved off. Rubbing his eyes fiercely, he muttered, "Vanora'll kill me."

Arthur turned to Gawain next, who had not yet pledged his participation. If there was one thing that Arthur knew about Galahad for a certainty, it was that only two people could control him; Morgaine and Gawain….one dead and one yet living. "And you Gawain?"

Gawain looked at Arthur with solemn eyes, before speaking. "I'm with you," he agreed, before pledging his oldest friend along with himself, "Galahad as well."

Starting to walk away, he stopped and waited for Galahad to join him. Galahad's eyes hardened and he poured out what remained in the jug he drank from, before smashing the ceramic jug against the tiles at his feet. Turning on his heel, he stormed furiously past Gawain and toward the dorms with the rest of the Knights. Arthur watched him walk away for a moment, thinking, W_hat happened to the man that Morgaine loved so much? How did I not notice this change in him? This fury, this hatred?_

Unbeknownst to Arthur, Lancelot was watching him. Arthur turned and walked away, leaving Lancelot standing alone. Lancelot continued to sip on his ale, determining to talk to Arthur later. It would be best to talk to him when the rest of the world was dead. And none could hear them yelling at one other.

Gawain found Galahad on the battlements at midnight that night, drinking heavily from a jug of ale. "Galahad, what are you doing?"

"I can't do this, Gawain. Every Woad I kill reminds me of her."

Gawain sat down next to his friend, just listening to him talk. He knew that Galahad had never truly grieved for Morgaine, always holding her and her memory close to his heart. There was no body to bury, no grave to visit, nothing certain to mourn. So Galahad only ranted and raged, screaming at the world, the Woads, the Saxons and at the Gods for taking her from him. But he never grieved, shoving his pain deeply under the rage and hatred that consumed him.

Finally, he collapsed onto the battlements, sobbing in drunken incoherence. Gawain wrapped his arms around the younger man, holding him close as he sobbed. "I'm scared. If I die, will I see her again? Is it possible that she's still alive and my death with only ensure more heartache? If she's out there somewhere, still alive, does she still love me? Does she care that I can't breath without her?"

Gawain held him, allowing him to cry himself to sleep. Hefting the younger man over his shoulder, he trotted down the stairs and carried him to Morgaine's room. He laid him in the bed and left the chamber silently, leaving the exhausted young man time to get some much needed rest.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If you recognize it, I didn't create it.

AN: Since everyone's being so nice, I decided to put up another chapter today. From now on, it's going to be only one chapter at a time, so I hope you're as excited as I am.

Emerald Dreams, ZELINIA, HGandRHForever, Shorty51- I hope you like where I'm going with this. You'll quickly understand that all of Galahad's anger and hatred somehow comes back to Morgaine. Loosing her made him loose his soul.

Nimue: I'm sorry you don't like my Morgaine. I never liked her role in the legends. Besides, most of the books, were written by a man. I wanted my Morgaine to be compassionate, caring, gentle, while at the same time worthy of a Knight like Galahad. I hope as you continue to read her, you'll come to enjoy her character more. I mean, in the legends, Galahad was Lancelot's son, and Lancelot was Morgaine and Arthur's cousin, so, it's all kind of relative. Even the movie didn't stay true to Arthurian legend, so I didn't think I had to either.

Chapter Twenty

The next morning, despite the hangover from hell, Galahad got up and went to the stables. Saddling Dar, he started to canter around the open floor, waking up completely and forcing himself to forget the night before. The Knights left the Wall around mid-morning, riding fast and light; Jols, the Bishop's valet and a pack horse trailing after them.

Later in the day, the Woads trapped them within a web of trees and barbed cord. A man with blazing eyes stared up at them, bow cocked and aimed at Arthur, before a horn blew. Gawain shouted up at an archer in the trees, trying to understand why he wasn't shooting at them. "What are you waiting for?" he asked in Briton.

At the man's fixated gaze, he followed it curiously. The archer's eyes were fixed on Galahad. The man in the tree un cocked the arrow and scurried down the tree, following the rest of his kinsmen from the clearing. Penned in, Arthur and his Knights had no idea how to get out. Just then, Morgaine's voice whispered from behind them, _"This way, Arthur. Come this way."_

Galahad whirled his horse around, disappointed at the emptiness behind them. The voice spoke again, this time obviously teasing, _"Come on, Sarmatian. What's wrong? Suddenly afraid of spirits?_"

A white horse and a shadowed rider with flying black hair flashed past and Jols breathed, "A white Arabian. Mary-Megan and Morgaine."

Jols' words were all Galahad needed. He spurred his horse into action, kicking Dar after the two. Arthur thought briefly about trying to stop him, but instead just kicked his horse after him. They chased the sound of Morgaine's voice for an hour, before they finally broke free of the trees and the Woads' trap. There was no sign of the white Arabian or its rider, and Galahad slumped in frustration. "Nazneen, why must you haunt me so?" he begged breathlessly, squeezing his eyes tightly to try and forestall the tears.

Her voice spoke again from to his left. He knew without looking she wouldn't be there. _"Soon, Sarmatian. We will be together again soon. Go, freedom awaits you."_

Arthur looked at Galahad, feeling his heart breaking a bit more at the utter desolation in Galahad's eyes. Turning to Lancelot, he questioned quietly, "Did you hear it too, or are Galahad and I just hallucinating?"

"No, I heard her, Arthur. I heard her as clearly as if she was you just now."

Arthur nodded, before speaking up. "Now that we're out of there, let's hurry. We don't have much time."

After they arrived at the estate, Arthur knew instantly that he hated Marius Honorius. The man was full of himself and his importance. As they were preparing to leave, the Knights struggling to control their anxious steeds, Arthur's eyes narrowed at the sight of two monks walling up a small, brick enclosure. Arthur drew his sword and swung down.

"Move," Arthur ordered the two mercenaries who approached to impede his progress, and when they didn't he ordered again, "Move! Move!" he shouted, causing them finally to abandon their posts. Turning to the two monks, Arthur inquired, "What is this?"

One of the monks answered, "You cannot go in there. No one goes in there. This place is forbidden."

"What are you doing? Stop this?"

Morgaine's voice spoke through the air again, _"Come to me Arthur. Save me. Save them. You must. Come face to face with the works of your God, fueled by the might of Rome."_

Lancelot had heard Morgaine's voice but was trying to be practical. "Arthur, we have no time."

Galahad swung down after Arthur, followed by Gawain, both drawing their blades. "For Morgaine," Galahad began, stopping at the swell of emotion, causing Gawain to finish, "there is always time."

Dagonet was called upon to break down the wall, sending the bricks to the ground in a hail of dust and smoke. "Key." Arthur demanded, looking at the two monks.

"It is locked from the inside," a monk replied, causing Arthur to nod at Dagonet. The silent giant nodded, before kicking open the structure. "You, you. Go." Gawain said, after Lancelot and Galahad had followed Arthur inside. When the two monks only whimpered, Gawain lost his temper and shoved them forward. "Move!"

Lancelot handed Gawain a torch, the four Knights hearing a priest was chanting in Latin as they went down the stairs. "Who are these defilers of the Lord's temple?"

Lancelot lost patience, moving forward and shoving the monk aside with the order, "Out of the way." Both he and Arthur observed the horror, before Lancelot asked rhetorically, almost echoing Morgaine's words, "The work of your god. Is this how he answers your prayers?"

Arthur chose to ignore the question, ordering quietly, "See if there's any still alive."

One of the monks stepped forward as Lancelot broke the chains to one cage, demanding lowly, "How dare you set foot in this holy place?"

Lancelot stood and ran the monk through, to which another replied, "There was a man of God."

Lancelot stood up and shoved his finger menacingly into the man's face. "Not my god!"

Arthur shouted out, "This one's dead."

Gawain replied, "By the smell, they are all dead."

Galahad, standing to his right, let out a soft sound of distress, his eyes scanning each for a sign of Morgaine, praying to whatever god -Arthur's, the Sarmatians', the Moon- that was listening that none of those entombed would turn out to be the woman he loved. Knowing that he had no time to comfort the youngest Knight, Gawain spoke to the monk, "And you. You even move," Gawain threatened, before gesturing at the dead monk at his feet, "you join him."

Out of the ten or twenty that were entombed there, they saved only two; a boy and a Woad woman. The boy, Lucan, caught fever and began to talk, telling of people he'd seen and things that had happened in Marius' dungeons. And with these fevered confessions, came the embodiment of Arthur -and Galahad's- greatest nightmare...discouraging rumors of Morgaine.

A year had passed since the beginning of her incarceration. At the time of her captivity, she had been heavily pregnant and proclaimed a sorceress, witch and guilty of treason against Rome and the emperor. Marius' wife acknowledged that a woman had been taken from the dungeons to birth a child, though the fate of mother and child were unknown to her. Morgaine's body had not been among the dead in the dungeons, a fact to which Arthur confessed mixed feelings. None could tell of whether she had lived or died. So, while there was proof she had survived the Plague, whether or not she -and her infant child- had survived Marius and his cruelty was yet to be seen.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue me. You won't get anything.

I have updated once again and so I will acknowledge my wonderful reviewers.

Meraculas and Natalie: Welcome to the Party! I hope it suits your liking. There is much still to be read.

HGandRHForever: If enough people ask for everyday updates, I will do so on everyday, not a weekend. I have bigger fish to fry on Saturdays and Sundays, namely my boyfriend and my sister.

ZELINIA: You darling angel, you! I could kiss you for your loyalty. I hope you like where I'm going with this. And….there's a huge twist at the end of this chapter.

I'll see you all on Monday. ;)

Chapter Twenty-One

Nightfall found them away from Marius Honorius' home. Marius, his wife -the Lady Diane, and their son -Alecto, the Pope's favorite godchild and pupil- were sleeping, tucked away in their carriage. Dagonet was sleeping at the base of a tree with the young boy they had rescued from Marius' torture chamber silent and slumbering next to him. Dagonet had set his broken arm, treating him much as Bors treated his own sons. The two were already good friends and inseparable.

The Woad woman, Guinevere, had also been rescued, though she did not sleep. Her dislocated fingers had been set by Arthur himself, but there was something heartbreakingly familiar about her. Her defiance and strength reminded him much of the Woad child he had adopted as his sister so many years ago, and despite his attraction to her, he could not let himself get too close to her.

Galahad and Gawain were attempting to sleep, though thoughts of Morgaine -and the fate of Galahad's child- made this impossible, while Bors sat alone at the fire, drinking quietly to pass the time. Tristan was out scouting, keeping an eye on the approaching Saxons as they camped for the night. Lancelot sat alone in the light of the fire, keeping an eye on Arthur who slept at the base of a tree, outside the firelight. _"Arthur,"_ came that familiar voice behind Arthur, causing him to wake.

Looking around, he saw Guinevere moving away from camp. Equal parts suspicious and curious, he grabbed his sword and followed her. She stopped, a ways from the camp. He approached her, the two of them smiling at each other. But then, her eyes looked away and Arthur lunged backward, sword at the ready. Merlin stood there in the dark, illuminated by the crack of the lightning overhead. Turning back to Guinevere, Arthur accused, "You betrayed me!"

"He means you no harm," Guinevere insisted, staying where she was.

"Peace between us this night, Arthur Castus." Merlin called, getting a good look at the man who had loved his daughter as his sister. Coming down the hill, he spoke softly. "So Rome is leaving. The Saxon is come. The world we have known and fought for is ended. Now we must make a new world."

Arthur's eyes glared at him, some part of him irrationally blaming Merlin for the death of Morgaine. "Your world, Merlin, not mine. I shall be in Rome," he insisted, tacking on a silent, _away from you and the memories of Morgaine._

"To find peace? The Saxon will come to Rome."

"My Knights trust me not to betray them to their enemy."

"Rome was my enemy, not Arthur. You know this, Arthur, Morgaine told you this many times. We have no fight between us now."

"You tell that to the Knights you killed before my eyes. Whose bone are buried in this earth. Tell that to Morgaine, who disappeared after I entrusted her to your safekeeping."

Guinevere turned to look at Merlin, confused. Merlin shook his head at her and sighed deeply, "We have all lost brothers."

Something in his tone infuriated Arthur. "You know nothing of the loss I speak. Not only was there Morgaine, but there was another as well. Shall I help you remember? An attack on a village. The screams of an innocent woman." He paused, seeing the attack, his burning home and his mother trapped inside. "I ran to the burial ground of my father to free her. To kill you. I feel the heat of that fire on my face even now."

"I did not wish her dead. She was of our blood, as are you."

Guinevere spoke then, deciding to remain silent about Morgaine as Merlin had silently implied. "If you were so determined to leave us to slaughter, why did you save so many?"

Merlin picked up then, "My men are strong, but they have need of a true leader. They believe you can do anything. To defeat the Saxons, we need a master of war. Why do you think I spared you in the forest?"

Arthur spoke softly. "Galahad had thought that you spared those of us that are left in Morgaine's memory, seeing as though most of us who are left loved her best."

Merlin flinched slightly. "That sword you carry is made of iron from this earth, forged in the fires of Britain. It was love of your mother that freed the sword, not hatred of me. Love, Arthur."

Guinevere spoke, entreating him. "It is your destiny."

"There is no destiny. Only free will."

"And what of the free will of your Knights? Did they die in vain?"

Arthur stopped at that, before moving away in pain. Guinevere looked up at Merlin, questioning, "Morgaine? But she es…."

"Do not worry about that. All Arthur needs is a token of my good will. **_She_** will arrive in the morning."


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If you recognize it, I don't own it. Don't sue me, you won't get anything.

A little bit of no one and Babak: Welcome to the Party! I hope it suits your liking. And I'm glad you like it so far. That makes my author's heart very happy. :)

ZELINIA: I would love to write a story with you. I have to admit a certain bias for Galahad, Gawain and Morgaine though. I hope that's okay. I wrote an introduction. I'll email it to you today.

Natalie: Yes, she's alive. And today, you get to see how totally Kick Butt she truly is.

HGandRHForever: I loved your review. It was so cool. And so energetic. I'm glad you liked my little twist.

And so without further ado, here's Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next morning, Marius' guards attacked Dagonet, dragging him away from Lucan. Though Dagonet put up a gallant effort, Marius managed to get a hold of Lucan. "I have the boy!"

Dagonet turned in horror, watching as Marius held a dagger to the boy's fragile neck. "What are you waiting for? Kill him! Kill him!"

Lady Diane shouted in horror, throwing herself at her husband in an attempt to stop him, "No! Let them go! Let them go!"

Marius threw her off of him effortlessly with his knife hand, before returning the blade to Lucan's defenseless throat. Just then, as Dagonet watched, an arrow exploded through the back of his head, protruding from his left eye-socket, while a second pierced into his right breast a millisecond later. Lucan broke free and ran for Dagonet's arms, as Marius fell, the first arrow having killed him instantly. Guinevere was unnerved by the appearance of the unexpected arrow, but hid it well as she held up the loaded bow, aiming it at the guards casually. Arthur and Lancelot joined her, as Lancelot spoke, his swords resting crossed behind his neck, "It would seem that your hands are better."

Guinevere did not deign that with a response, instead unloading the arrow into the ground at the feet of the guard. Dagonet snatched Lucan and shoved him down behind the saddle. "Stay down!" he ordered, before drawing his sword and waving it confidently over his head. "Hah!"

Bors rode up, shouting, "Artorius! Do we have a problem? Huh?" he asked, bumping his horse into the guards none-too-kindly.

Arthur spoke up, "You have a choice. Either you help or you die."

A feminine, familiar –and very welcome- voice spoke up. "And I would highly suggest you take the first option. Or else I can put another of my arrows through the back of your head and out through your eye like I did your master."

Arthur and Lancelot both jerked as Morgaine rode up on Mary-Megan, her bow cocked and deadly, her horse held in check with her knees. Arthur looked over at Lancelot. "Get Galahad. And Gawain,as well."

Lancelot nodded, sheathing his twin swords and running to get the youngest two Knights. "Morgaine, what are you doing here? You're dead!" Arthur asked in Latin.

"No, Arthur, I'm very much alive. Merlin thought that you might require a token of his good will. So, here I am. Along with my son." Morgaine responded in kind, her eyes showing her amusement while her face was still set in hard, deadly lines, the bow still aimed at the mercenary's head.

Lucan looked up at the new rider and burst into a smile. "Aunt Morgaine!"

Morgaine smiled at her "nephew" lifting him up onto her horse and hugging him tightly to her as he ran toward her, being careful with his broken arm. "Hello, Lucan. Has Dagonet taken good care of you?"

"Yes, Auntie. He's very nice."

"Silent, but nice, yes. He always was." Morgaine reiterated, before setting the boy down and pointing back at his hiding place, her bow back up as soon as Lucan touched ground. Lucan went obediently. Morgaine smiled at her brother's flap-jawed look, before tapping one of the swords hanging at her side. "Arthur?"

Arthur blinked, nodding once. "Make your choice now. Help or die. Because, as you can see, my sister is an excellent shot."

The guards' swords dropped, allowing Jols to go and retrieve them. Morgaine put up her bow, moving Mary-Megan to stand beside Arthur and Guinevere. Galahad and Gawain were coming, Arthur could hear them running toward them, but he had a question to ask first. "Son?"

Morgaine reached back over her shoulder and pulled off a backpack. A little boy, a year old at most, slept peacefully. On his head was a mop of ebony curls and when his eyes blinked open fussily, everyone could see their obviously green hue. "This is Galahad's son. His name is Archie. It means bowman."

"Nazneen!" came Galahad's ecstatic shout.

Morgaine sprang from her horse, handing the baby gently to Arthur, before lunging into Galahad's arms. "Sarmatian!" she cried, before she could say nothing more.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If you recognize it, I don't own it. Don't sue me, you won't get anything.

Natalie: In answer to your question, technically, yes, he would, but only by a little bit. A woman is pregnant for nine months, right? So she'd have carried him for nine months, and then she would have raised him for a year and three months. I hope that helps.

Babak: We will soon discover where Morgaine has been and what she has been going through. But not for another couple chapters. Hold on for a moment, and we'll get there eventually. And I'm glad you like the name Nazneen. I thought that Galahad needed a nickname for her. It's a pretty name anyway.

HGandRHForever: I love your reviews. You're so cute . I hope that you continue to be so energetic about this chapter. And it's nice to know that my story can brighten your day.

Meraculas: Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it.

ZELINIA: I have every intention of taking your suggestion. I hope to see more of your reviews.

Rae: You're my best friend, so I'll let you get away with that review. But you are in so much trouble, girl!

Chapter Twenty-Three

Galahad's lips crushed against hers and she moaned, her arms coming around his neck tightly and holding him close to her. "I love you," she whispered in Sarmatian, when they separated for air.

"I love you," he replied, before kissing her again, his hands splayed wide across the firm musculature of her back. "Where have you been?"

"Most recently, I have been with my people, doing what I can to ease their hatred of Arthur and his Knights. Before that, I was in Hell. "

Galahad pulled her tighter to him, burying his face in her curls and allowing his tears to leak from his eyes. "Don't ever leave me again."

Morgaine pulled back, looking up at him with a gentle smile. "Not if I can help it, Sarmatian."

Galahad looked back at Arthur, his arms still securely around Morgaine. "Arthur, I would ask your permission to marry your sister."

"Permission granted," Arthur replied, absently, eyes fixated on the bundle in his eyes.

Morgaine looked up at Galahad with a big grin. "Looks like you're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"And that's a damned good thing, too, Lady."

Morgaine turned, smiling at the big blond Knight there. "Gawain! How good to see you again!" she cried, before leaping into his arms, accepting another big hug from him as well.

Lancelot spoke next. "Hey! What about me?"

"Lance, I could never forget about you!" Morgaine laughed, hugging her big brother tightly, before stepping back.

Coming to her brother's side, she looked up at him. "Well, does he meet your approval?" she teased.

Since taking the babe from Morgaine, his eyes had been glued to its face. "He's beautiful, Rhiannon. It's hard to believe that something this beautiful could possibly be Galahad's."

Morgaine laughed, causing the four men to close their eyes and revel in the sound of it. Taking the baby back, she turned to face the other three Knights. "Gentlemen, I have someone I want you to meet. Meet my son, Archie."

Galahad's eyes grew about the size of the silver disc featuring Pelagius in Arthur's room. "He's my son?" he asked quietly, touching the baby's face gently.

"Well, of course, silly. With these curls, the only other person he could possibly belong to would be Lancelot." Morgaine teased.

Galahad glared at Lancelot, remembering Lancelot's notoriety for seducing the other Knights' women. Morgaine rolled her eyes, gripping his chin firmly and turning him back to her. "You're the only man I have ever wanted. And you're the only man I have ever invited into my bed. Besides, Lancelot is like Arthur, a brother….not a lover. Now, stop being absurd and hold your son," she scolded fondly in Sarmatian.

Galahad was a natural with children and held the boy close to his chest, one hand cupping the back of his head gently. "He's my son," he stated, getting a goofy grin on his face.

A commotion behind him caused Galahad to pull the baby tighter to him and tuck Morgaine's body behind him. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Tristan. Bors called out to him, "How many did you kill?"

"Four." Tristan replied tersely.

"Not a bad start on the day!" Bors laughed, before Dagonet filled Tristan in on the news, "The Lady Morgaine's back from the dead."

Tristan tossed a Saxon crossbow at Arthur's feet, nodding once with a small smile at Morgaine. Morgaine smiled back at him, nodding in acknowledgment. "Armor piercing."

"How many?"

"Hundreds. They're not that far behind us. We don't have much time."

"You ride on out ahead." Arthur instructed, before looking at Morgaine. "I am glad to have you back, sister, and we will further celebrate your return back at the Wall."

Morgaine swung up into Mary-Megan's saddle, slipping the bag holding her son, onto her chest. "I look forward to it, Arthur, although I must insist that I get to spend some time alone with my betrothed."

"My Vanora will happily look after your little one, Lady." Bors offered in his booming voice.

"Thank you, Sir Bors. Come on, we don't have enough time to sit and talk."

Galahad swung up onto his horse, both him and Gawain taking up defensive positions on each side of her. Galahad reached out and touched her thigh. "It is good to have you back, Nazneen."

"It is good to hear you call me Nazneen. When I am old, will you still call me such?" she asked, reminding him of a time long ago in a cottage out of the way of the Wall and in Woad territory.

"Of course, you will always be my Dark Child," he replied, his eyes as earnest and sincere as they had been then.

She smiled, before exchanging a quick kiss with him and kicking her mare into a steady canter. Gawain and Galahad did the same, catching up with her easily.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Decided to post more than just one chapter today. Flash of inspiration. So here it is.

ZELINIA: I hope you like this. It's mostly your idea.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Arthur left Morgaine with her adoring entourage and approached the carriage in which rode Alecto and the Lady Diane. Alecto was leaning out the window, staring at the passing scenery. "I am sorry for your loss." Arthur stated, attempting to console the youth.

"My father lost his way. He used to say the Church was there to help us stay on our path. It didn't help those he made suffer," he stated, give a small, but seemingly wise, smile.

"The path he chose was beyond the reach of the Church, Alecto."

"But not of Rome. What my father believed, so Rome believes."

"What, that some men are born to be slaves? No, that isn't true."

"It is so! He told me so!"

"Pelagius, a man as close to me as any, is there now, teaching that all men are free, equal. And that each of us has the right to choose his own destiny."

"Teach? How? They killed Pelagius a year past. Germanius and the others were damned by his teachings. They had him excommunicated and killed. The Rome you talk of doesn't exist, except in your dreams."

Arthur fell back from the carriage, his sister the only one to notice of his friends his slumped shoulders and suddenly heavy demeanor. Morgaine touched Galahad's shoulder gently, "I'm going to ride with Arthur for a moment."

Galahad nodded, seeing the distress and concern in her eyes, watching her carefully as she rode toward Arthur's horse. Arthur heard her coming and braced for the inquisition. He thanked her silently when she stayed silent, simply offering comfort by her mere presence.

Lancelot had asked to hold Morgaine's child, and having received permission, was carrying the tiny bundle across his chest. Though he tried to look disinterested, his fingers kept creeping to the babe's head, slipping like a knife through butter through the ebony curls. Then, noticing the teasing gleam in Galahad's eyes, he dropped his hand and slipped the bag off, handing the baby gently to Gawain, who had asked to hold the child next. "What kind of a name is Archie anyway? It's a terrible name for a child. She should have named him something like Lancelot. It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

The teasing in Galahad's eyes died and he glared at the older Knight. "Hold your tongue," the youngest snapped, his eyes spitting emerald fire, his hand coming up to slap Lancelot across his shoulder. Surprised by the force behind the blow, Lancelot had to fight to keep his seat and not go flying into the ground. "It's a perfect name for him. And that's the end of it."

Gawain nodded in agreement with Galahad. "She said it meant bowman, right?"

Galahad nodded, taking the baby next. "It probably served to remind her of me. Arthur and Tristan always said I was the best shot. I don't care what he's named. All I know is that he's mine."

Bors smiled, watching as Galahad kept the child close to his heart, and fussed over the blankets, making sure that Archie was kept dry and warm against his father's body. It was starting to snow, and Galahad hunched forward in the saddle, using his own body to shield the fragile features from the frozen rain. "It's amazing, isn't it?" Bors asked, nudging his horse closer to the three.

Galahad looked over, steering Dar around a root, before asking, "What is?"

"That feeling that comes over you with fatherhood. Even though, I've never named them, I have always loved my bastards. I would protect them from the world, if I thought I could."

"All I want is for him to have the best of everything. And to be safe, never having to fight and kill as we have." Galahad confessed, fingers dancing across the baby's back, shielded by blankets and the canvas knapsack. "He's my son."

Bors smiled, all of the other Knights smirking as Galahad looked down at his son with love and adoration gleaming from his eyes. "We all wish we could give them everything they desire. It's the way of fatherhood."

Hours later, the Knights arrived at a frozen lake, where Tristan sat waiting for them, patiently. "There is no way around it, Arthur."

Turning to Morgaine, he was disheartened to see her nod her agreement. "Tristan's right. There are steep mountains on one side and the forests are too thick to get a horse through on the other. The Saxons would catch us easily."

Arthur nodded and dismounted. Turning to Jols, he spoke. "Tell everyone to get out of wagons, and spread out."

Galahad lifted Morgaine from her saddle, taking the reins of both horses. "You go first, Nazneen. I'll follow you."

Morgaine nodded, holding her son close to her. Her heart skipped at the deep groan of the ice under her feet. Closing her eyes briefly, she continued across the ice. She stopped with a small scream, as her feet slipped. Galahad caught her easily. "Easy, Nazneen," he encouraged, before looking up at the sound of Saxon drums.

Arthur looked around at his men. "Knights?"

"Personally, I'm getting tired of running."

Galahad pulled Morgaine's body close as he put in his own two cents, "At least we'd get a look at the bastards."

Arthur nodded, looking at Jols. "Take the horses."

Jols nodded back, taking the reins of first Mary-Megan and Dar, leading them quickly and carefully across the ice. Galahad scooped Morgaine into his arms, running carefully across the ice after him. Arthur took Ganis' shoulder. "Serve me now; take these people to the Wall. Stay close to the coast and you'll be fine."

"You're seven against hundreds."

"Eight, you'll need the extra bow." Guinevere added, expecting Arthur to be impressed.

Any feelings of impression on Arthur's part were quickly erased as his sister spoke, replaced by all encompassing dread. "Make that nine." Morgaine put in. "I'm a better shot than any of you, with maybe the exception of Tristan."

Galahad's face paled in horror when Arthur nodded reluctantly in agreement. Turning to Ganis, Morgaine spoke, "Do as he says. Take these people safely to the Wall. Tell them Arthur sent you and you should be

well cared for."

Ganis nodded, as Alecto looked at Arthur. "I can fight."

"No, you must get to Rome and tell of what you have seen."

Alecto nodded reluctantly, and returned to the side of the carriage that carried his mother and the boy, Lucan. Morgaine came to Lucan's side, touching his face. "You be safe and mind the Lady, all right?"

Lucan nodded, throwing his arms around his aunt's neck. Morgaine squeezed him tightly, before releasing him and handing her son to Lady Diane. "If Galahad or I should not return, please, consider him a gift in reparation of your husband's murder. Treat him as you would your own son."

"You did not murder my husband, Child; you released the people he oppressed from his tyranny. I hold no malice for you, nor hold you responsible in any way. You will return, Lady Morgaine. Of that I have no doubt. We will be waiting at the Wall for you," she encouraged, taking the baby and holding him close as the carriage began to move away.

Jols handed Gawain a torch, "To help you get them home, Gawain. It'll be dark soon," he explained.

He took the torch carefully, nodding solemnly. He knew who the "them" was that Jols spoke of. "Thank you. I will get them home, Jols, you have my word." He vowed, looking up at the day-sky moon.

Lucan waved sorrowfully at Dagonet, causing Dagonet to hold up his own hand in sad farewell. Morgaine stood there silently, watching the carriage drive away, with Galahad's arms about her waist in comfort. "We will not die here, Nazneen. I will not allow it. We will not die here when I have just gotten you back and I have Arthur's permission to marry you. We will see Archie again."

Morgaine nodded, planting the torch behind her and taking her place between Gawain and Galahad in the line of Knights. Lifting her bow, she notched an arrow against the string and pulled back on it, her cloak flapping in the wind. Lancelot spoke quietly to Guinevere. "There's a lot of lonely men out there."

"Don't worry, I won't let them rape you," she shot back.

Morgaine snorted, before replying, "No one would want that one. As prickly as thorns and as bony as anything; it'd be too difficult to get him to submit. They'd never get anything done. If they'd want anyone, it'd probably be Gawain. There's not an angle on him. Not to mention, he's fairly pretty in the face."

Gawain mock-glared at her, unable to hide his grin, to which she only grinned back. Chuckling to himself, Galahad spoke up. "I won't let them have you Gawain, I promise. They'll have to go through me first. And in order to get to me, they'll have to go through Morgaine."

"How very big of you, Galahad. Just keep eyes on Lady." Gawain ordered his friend, knowing that Galahad's future and peace of mind relied on Morgaine's survival.

Arthur spoke up vehemently. "Yes, Galahad, please keep an eye on Lady. We just got her and your heart back. I don't want to loose either one of them again."

Cyrnic, the Saxon in command of the army across the ice, spoke up. "Archer!"

A crossbowman approached, pulling up his bow and letting the bolt fly. It skittered to the ice not even halfway, before sliding about ten feet. Arthur spoke. "I believe they're waiting for an invitation. Tristan! Galahad! Morgaine!"

"They're far out of range." Guinevere protested, even as Morgaine and the others pulled their arrows back, took aim and let loose.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

Hey guys. New chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Five

All three arrows pierced flesh, causing three separate Saxons to fall to the ground. Arthur looked at Guinevere, cocking an eyebrow, to which she had the grace to look abashed. The Saxon army started over the ice, and Arthur pulled back his own arrow. "Aim for the wings; make them cluster. Wait for my signal."

When the army was about a quarter of the way across the ice, Arthur released his arrow, the others releasing theirs seconds later. The army clustered, before stabilizing their ranks again at the threats of their commander. "The ice isn't breaking!" Bors shouted from his place at the end of the line.

"Prepare for combat!" Arthur shouted, dropping the bow and grabbing his sword.

Morgaine reached for her swords, before dropping them and grabbing a saddlebag. Grabbing out a spherical shape, she used the torch still burning behind her to light it. "Get down!" she shouted, throwing the ball into the Saxon lines and knocking both Galahad and Gawain to the icy snow. Arthur covered Guinevere, as the rest of the Knights hit the ground.

When the fuse ran out, the ice exploded upward, cracking loudly in both directions. "Back up!" she shouted, grabbing her gear and running backward, taking the torch with her. Lighting another fuse, she tossed the second. This time, the water exploded upward spectacularly, as the icy water around the Saxons penned them in. Those that were lucky enough to be saved, were separated from Arthur and his fellows by nearly twenty feet of icy, rushing water.

The other eight persons in Morgaine's party turned to look at her in shock and surprise. "What was that?"

"Just something Merlin's been working on. Come, let's get back to the Wall. I want to hold my son."

Gawain spoke up lightly, "I understand why people call him a dark magician if he can produce something like that!"

Turning to Dagonet, she noticed the blood on his shirt. "Dag!" she cried, leaping to his side as he started to tumble.

Dagonet looked up at her with a small, pained smile. "It's just a flesh wound."

Morgaine rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Let's see it then. They're not going to be able to get off their floating island for awhile."

Dagonet moved his arm, allowing Morgaine to see where a crossbow bolt had bitten deeply into his flesh, before passing through. "It's clean; went straight through. I'll bandage it for now, and when we get back to the Wall, I'll be able to take care of it better."

Dagonet nodded, letting her tear off a swatch of skirt, rip it into strips, place the thick pad to the wound and wrap the strips around his torso to hold the pad in place. Assisting him onto his horse, she placed the reins in his hands. Placing both hands over his, she looked up at him carefully. "Are you going to be okay until we get to the Wall?"

He nodded at her with a small smile. "I'll be fine, Lady."

She nodded, turning toward her horse and making meaningful eye contact with Bors. The big man nodded, watching her walk to her horse and swing up. Galahad and Gawain took their places on each side of her, as Arthur pulled Guinevere onto the horse in front of him. "Let's get out of here." Lancelot urged.

Arthur nodded, nudging his horse forward into a gallop. The others followed his examples, leaving the screaming Saxons behind to either drown or freeze. When they arrived at the Wall, Morgaine breathed a sigh. "Home," she murmured, smiling up at the garrison of gray stone.

"We've missed you, Morgaine." Arthur assured her, his horse striding confidently through the gate.

"And I've missed everyone. Especially Vanora. Has she had anymore children since I left, Bors?"

"Yep. And this one is definitely mine." Bors crowed, as proud as a peacock.

Morgaine laughed at the on-going joke between Bors and Lancelot. "They're all yours, Bors," she laughed brightly, waving excitedly at Vanora.

Vanora smiled big at the sight of her and came running, a baby on her hip. Morgaine swung from her horse, allowing herself to swept into the woman's arms. Vanora had taken the place of the mother Morgaine had desperately needed, when she had still been at Wall. Bors had always been suspicious around her, but Vanora had accepted her with open arms. "Look at you, Child. You're beautiful. Rounded and well formed. And your breasts are bigger." She paused, before her eyes widened excitedly. "Did you have a child?"

Morgaine smiled, nodding emphatically, "Yes, a boy. Archie."

"Galahad, you lucky devil. A child to call your own. I'm so happy for you both. We all thought you were dead. Galahad was an absolute bear to deal with."

Morgaine looked at her mock-solemn, "Vanora, I think you and I should talk."

Galahad scooped Morgaine up in front of him and cantered off, causing the other Knights to laugh. In the courtyard, the Knights dismounted. Lucan came running through the gates, slipping past the Roman guards. Both moved to grab him, but Galahad's quick reflexes and steady knife hand stopped them in their tracks. Lucan lunged at Dagonet, the silent Knight lifting him effortlessly into his arms. Lucan threw his unbroken arm around Dagonet's neck and squeezed, both of them looking very much like a father and son reunited after a long absence. The Honorious carriage came into the courtyard, sending the Bishop Germanius to cry out with joy. "Christ be praised! Against all the odds that Satan could muster. Alecto let me see you! You have triumphed! Young Alecto, let me see you! You are here."

Alecto looked less than thrilled at that thought, turning to assist his mother from the carriage. Morgaine's face lit up at the sight of her son in Lady Diane's arms. She rushed forward, but a papal guard grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Morgaine struggled, but was unable to break her 16 year old form from the man's grip. "Let me go!" she hissed, struggling. "Archie!" she called, still struggling. "Galahad! Arthur! Help me!"

Galahad's voice was iron cold, the tip of an equally cold dagger pressed to the side of the guard's throat. "If you want to keep your hand, you'll release my fiancée this moment. Or I shall slice it off and make you swallow it."

The man let Morgaine go with startling alacrity, allowing her to rush to the Lady Diane. Lady Diane looked up at her with a soft smile. "Lady Morgaine, I believe you want this young one back?" She nodded, accepting her son back into her arms. "He was an angel. He slept through the entire trip." Lady Diane gushed, smoothing the blanket back from the boy's face.

"As long as he's been fed, he'll fall asleep and won't bother a soul. He's always been an angel. Now if only his father was so easy to handle."

Galahad's arms slipped around her waist, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder. "I heard that."

"I know," she taunted, turning in his arms, so that she could rest her head against his chest.

Galahad held her close, looking up at the Lady Diane with tears in his eyes. "Thank you for looking after him for us."

"It was my pleasure."

"If there's anything we can do….I'm so sorry about your loss."

"Just be happy with each other. And never become like Marius."

Galahad shook his head, horrified by the image of pushing Morgaine around like he'd seen Marius do to his own wife. Not that she'd ever be so weak-willed to let him. She'd probably kick his ass if he tried it. "I have no intention of doing so."

Lady Diane smiled, before she wrapped her arm around Alecto as Bishop Germanius continued to speak. "You are free now!" Germanius told Galahad, to which he only got an icy-cold glare. "Give me the papers. Come, come. Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire."

Arthur watched as the Knights glared at the Bishop, before approaching, calling Germanius' attention to him. "Take it, Arthur!"

Arthur stopped, looking down at the shorter clergyman, before speaking. "Bishop Germanius. Friend," he placed special emphasis on that word, those his eyes were cool and detached, "of my father."

The Bishop's happiness faded at the look and instantly he knew that Arthur had found out about Pelagius' fate. And his role in it. Arthur walked away, all of the Knights watching him go. Morgaine and Galahad had stayed behind the papal representative, to stay out of his way, but now they walked toward Gawain, his arm looped around her shoulders and both of their heads bent over the tiny miracle in her arms. "They'll be happy, won't they Mother?"

"Yes, Alecto, they'll be happy. Come, we should rest before we start our journey to Rome."

Alecto nodded, following his mother from the courtyard.

AN: Dagonet is one of my favorite characters. And I could not bear to leave Lucan without a father, so I couldn't kill him. I hope you don't mind. :) a


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Here are the kind words for my kind reviewers.

Babak: I hope you liked Chapter Twenty-Five. Dagonet didn't die!

HGandRHForever: Thank you so much for your review. I love you so much.

Meraculas and Natalie: I hope you like these next couple of chapters.

ZELINIA: WHERE ARE YOU? I MISS YOU!

Chapter Twenty-Six

An hour after getting home, Arthur stood in the doorway of Morgaine's chambers. Archie slept in a tiny bassinet against the wall, having been well fed and pampered shamelessly by mother, father and "Uncle" Gawain. Morgaine herself was going around her room, checking on everything that was different from the last time she'd been there. "Where have you been all of these years?" he asked, coming behind her and placing his hand on her shoulder.

"I have been in heaven, and in hell. Sit, and I'll tell you everything," she pleaded, gesturing toward the armchair opposite of the bed.

Arthur took his seat and sat back, waiting to hear the tale of her adventures. "When I left here, I went straight back to Merlin. As I wrote in my letter, I was horrified to discover that the Plague had taken hold. It all went down from there." Morgaine stood from her seat on the bed and began to pace, wringing her hands as she spoke. "I immediately began to assist my father in comforting, and healing, the sick. I got tired and eventually fell ill myself. When I had recovered, I was informed by the village midwife, who had tended to me during that time, that I was pregnant and I would be blessed with a child before the end of the year. By now, almost six months had passed since I had left you. I must confess, I don't remember much of it. It seems like one long blur, with the faces of the sick and dying the only definitive features."

"When did Marius capture you?" Arthur inquired, not really wanting to know the answer, but needing to know anyway.

"A month later, I was being transferred from the village to a smaller village up north. It would be safer and I would be able to deliver my child without the threats of the people. I would be secluded and taken care of. But it didn't go as planned. We had to pass by Marius' estate and his mercenaries caught sight of us. They reported to that villain that they had seen a group of Woads rob from him. They rode out against us. Of the ten warriors who had accompanied me, I was the only one to survive. I was thrown into that pit he calls a dungeon."

"He didn't torture you like he tortured the others, did he? You were pregnant."

"Nearly seven months pregnant, to be exact. But yes, he did. My pregnancy didn't mean anything. And I wouldn't tell the father of my child, either, so it was assumed that I was Satan's mistress. They couldn't make me scream, though, no matter how hard they tried. I never told them anything; I cannot say the same for others under Marius' control. Two months later I had had all I could stand, and was now only living for my child and with the tiny hope that I would be able to get back to the Wall and with Galahad, Gawain, Lance and you. When I went into labor, the Lady Diane insisted that I be removed from the dungeons. Marius refused, but she had me snuck out anyway."

"How did you escape?"

"I was taken to a serf's cottage and hidden there from Marius. I delivered my child and spent three days fighting childbed fever, sure that it was going to take me from my child and all of you. When I recovered from the fever, the serf woman I was staying with came up with the plan to hide me and Archie among the grain that was being sent to sea. Tahira, my turtledove, had been with the convoy taking me north and when I was captured had stayed near the manor, keeping watch for some sign of me. I sent her with a note to Merlin, and on the day I was snuck out….the Woads attacked. They confiscated the grain, with me secreted inside.

"I have been up North ever since. I could not come South or risk being taken captive by Marius again. When the Saxon threat came, Merlin sent Briac, his second in command, to retrieve me from my hideaway. Briac was the man you almost killed that first time you heard my voice. I was always close, watching over you, even when you couldn't see me. I was there that day in the woods and outside Marius' prison. I was the one that blew the horn call that saved you and your Knights. That night after his confrontation with you, Merlin returned to camp and told me that I would be returning home with you and the others. I rode all night, and arrived at your camp the next morning. And the rest…" she paused with a small smile, "you know."

Arthur got up and came to his sister's side. She was still pacing, but stopped in surprise when he pulled her close to him. "Morgaine, I cannot…." he paused, overcome by emotion. Looking up at her, he tried to smile through his tears. "Morgaine I cannot imagine what you have been through. But I told you once that I would give you anything you asked. I will hold true to that now."

Morgaine looked up at her brother with a teary smile. "I would ask to be married."

"Done," he agreed.

"Tonight."


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Two chapters in one day. Aren't you special?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After parting company with Morgaine, the girl herself in Vanora's capable hands, Arthur came into the Chamber of the Round Table. All his Knights, except for Dagonet who was resting in the dorms with Lucan, were in the room, although there was nothing calm about what was going on. Gawain had a firm grip about Galahad's shoulders, fighting to keep the young man where he was. From the inches Galahad dragged Gawain across the floor, it was apparently not an easy -or particularly successful- struggle. "Easy, Gal. Ignore him, he's an idiot," Gawain admonished, still struggling with the youngest Knight.

Lancelot was standing against the wall, taunting the youth. Arthur watched in surprise as Galahad managed to break free from Gawain and lunged at his second-in-command, pounding his face in. Galahad had always been the smallest of the Knights, and Gawain could easily pin him. To see the boy get away from the sturdy blond was something of a jolt. Apparently Lancelot was just as shocked. Taken aback by the rage and revulsion fueling the Youngest, Lancelot had no means with which to protect himself from the young Knight's assault. "Take it back!" he shouted, his fist slamming into his cheek. "She wouldn't do that to me! She knows how I feel about the Romans! He's her son! Now take it back!"

Together, Bors and Gawain managed to pull the furious father away from a fallen Lancelot, Lancelot's own arms up to protect his face. Arthur stepped further into the room, his voice thundering, "Sit down!"

Galahad shook himself free of both Knights and stormed around the table, taking his seat opposite Lancelot at the table. Gawain watched him warily, seating himself next to his best friend. "What is going on in here?"

"Lancelot is teasing Galahad about Archie's name. Keeps insisting the lad's name is Roman." Bors explained, narrowing his eyes at Galahad.

Arthur shook his head. "I highly doubt that Morgaine would name any child of hers anything Roman. She hates the Romans just as much as Galahad does. I believe the name Archie is Briton. Now sit down," he ordered, seating himself in his usual chair. Still lying flat on his back, Lancelot spoke, "Arthur, do me a favor?"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair. "What favor is that, my friend?"

"Remind me never to taunt Galahad about Archie ever again. Damn, when did he learn to throw a decent punch?"

Gawain spoke up, a sly smile curving his lips. "I believe he was 18. Morgaine taught him."

That sent a small chuckle around the table, including from a calming Galahad, as Lancelot managed to pick himself up off the floor carefully, and when he had seated himself at the table, Arthur glanced over at Lancelot, feeling his temper -having quelled with Galahad's display of fatherly retribution- start to simmer again. "I wish we would have taken those monks with us. They would have been useful."

Gawain choked on his wine, coughing to try and clear his airway as Lancelot cocked an eyebrow in question. "Oh really? Why is that?"

"Because then I would be able to string them up and enact vengeance for my sister. At this moment, I would like nothing more than to flay their skin from their bodies, inch by agonizing inch!" he roared, furious, his fists slamming hard into the tabletop of the Round Table.

Galahad stared, unused to seeing Arthur so angry. "What's happened , Arthur? Is Morgaine all right?"

"She is now. However, Marius' monks tortured her during her pregnancy. The Lady Diane is the only reason your fiancée yet lives, having snuck my sister to a safe place so Morgaine could give birth to Archie. Thus, allowing my sister to engineer her escape."

Galahad's jaw tightened in anger before taking another sip of ale. Gawain finally managed to regain his composure, before speaking quietly, "So what do we do now, Arthur? The Saxons are coming, you know it as well as I. Do we stay or do we leave?"

"We leave. Our service is done. And I cannot ask for anymore from you," he replied, before sipping calmly on his ale. "So, Galahad, were you serious about wanting to marry Morgaine?"

"Yes." Galahad insisted, nodding emphatically, before taking a drink of his drink.

He choked at Arthur's next words. "Tonight?"

Galahad looked up at Arthur and stared, all of the color fading from his face. "Tonight?" he asked, before thinking about it. Smiling, he nodded once. "Absolutely."

"Good; then I will leave you to prepare. The wedding will be tonight, just before sunset. Morgaine wanted it that way."

Galahad nodded, bowing slightly to the other Knights and leaving, Gawain close on his heals.

Hours later, Morgaine was standing with Vanora in her chambers. Vanora was pinning up her sable hair with fully bloomed white roses to match the beautiful white gown she wore, the moonless midnight of her tresses contrasting sharply with the startling purity of the blooms. The gown itself was crafted of heavy Roman silk, and it was to be her wedding gown. The waist was high under her bust, with a high scoop neck. The under-sleeves, tight and fitted to the wrist, hugged her arms while a second -longer- pair of sleeves were made of lace, delicate white roses stitched into the fabric, her shoulders also covered in the exquisite lace. The tips of these sleeves brushed the floor, joining with the train behind her. The dress made her feel beautiful. Morgaine was so excited, she could hardly breathe. "Finally, my dreams are coming true," she sighed to her reflection in the mirror.

She smiled as a disgruntled "humph!" that could be heard behind her. "I can't believe you are getting married now. Today! You've given me no time to prepare, dearie. I'm doing all of this from scratch." Vanora scolded, on her knees and pinning up the back where part of the hem had come down.

Morgaine smiled into the mirror, watching the redheaded woman, whom she loved as dearly as she had loved her mother, as she bent her head to her task. "I know, Vanora, and I apologize for the suddenness of it all. But I have waited two years to be called his wife. I refuse to wait a moment more. The Saxons will come here, and we all know it. It will ease my heart to marry him now, when I know that we are safe, instead of waiting to marry him after the battle that must surely come, not knowing if he would live or die."

Vanora smiled, looking up at the radiant bride, smiling at the rosy flush in her cheeks and the peace in her demeanor. "I suppose I have no stories of the wedding night to impart, seeing as how you have a son of your own. But I will say this. You must always expect to be disappointed."

Morgaine turned to look at the other woman, before cupping her face between her hands. "Galahad has never disappointed me yet. And I doubt it is a discourse he will begin to follow in the coming years."

Vanora smiled up at her, her hands coming around the other woman's. "You really love him," she asked with wise, knowing eyes, "don't you?"

"With every pulse-beat of my Woad heart. He is what I have always wanted. And I could only ask for one thing more. But that one thing shall never be mine, so I must let it go," she sighed, turning to look in the mirror again.

Vanora nodded once, before adjusting her hair and the lie of the dress fussily one last time. "All right. I think you're ready. I'll go get Arthur."

Morgaine nodded, twirling in front of the mirror as Vanora left the room in search of the Roman Commander. Moments later, he was at the door, struck dumb by her gentle beauty. "Rhiannon," he breathed in awe, "you are breathtaking. Galahad won't be able to speak straight."

"That's what I'm hoping for," she laughed lightly, turning to look at him. "Shall we?" she inquired, stepping from her pedestal and coming to stand beside him.

Arthur nodded, offering her his arm. Morgaine slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow, using his own arm as a lever to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. Arthur smiled at her indulgently, before leading her out of the room and into the chapel.

Galahad was standing in the chapel, Vanora standing in the place of the mother-of-the-bride, her baby on her hip, Bors standing proud –if slightly inebriated- next to her, their bastards clustered around them giggling. Gawain stood to Galahad's left, Archie held gently in his arms, watching the proceeding with pride and just a touch of sadness. While he couldn't be happier for his friend, he knew that the relationship among the trio had just changed dramatically. Dagonet still carried Lucan, both of them silent statues against the sea of village folk. Jols was standing to the left of Bors, Morgaine herself having insisted that he be present at her wedding, seeing as he was one of her dearest friends. At this entreaty, Jols had blushed bright red and had nodded, agreeing to attend.

When the doors opened and Arthur led the blushing bride down the aisle, Galahad could only stare, struck dumb by the very sight of her. Never had he seen his beloved look so lovely. Morgaine was brought to the front and her tiny hand was placed in Galahad's callused palm. He smiled at her, before turning to face the priestess who would be conducting the ceremony. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of the Almighty Goddess to marry this man and this woman," the woman began, before looking down at Galahad and Morgaine with an indulgent smile curving her lips, "Do you, Sir Galahad of Sarmatia, Knight and Father, take this woman as your wife, no matter what shall befall you both? Do you take her burdens as your own, her tears as your own, her life as your own?"

"I do," he replied, smiling into her shining blue eyes.

She smiled back as the words were repeated to her. "Do you, Lady Morgaine of the Woads, Mother and Warrior, take this man as your husband, no matter what shall befall you both? Do you take his burdens as your own, his tears as your own, his life as your own?"

"I do," she agreed, blushing at his widening smile.

"Good," she said, with an emphatic nod, before finishing, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Morgaine smiled up at Galahad, her blue eyes watching him lovingly as he bent his head to kiss her softly. After the ceremony, the Knights and Morgaine went to the tavern, celebrating her return and her wedding. Bors could often be heard to say, "I love weddings. Free wine." That "slightly inebriated" state had rapidly morphed into "falling down drunk".

Morgaine only laughed at the antics of her friends, snuggling her right side close to Galahad, Gawain in his place on her left. Today was definitely the best day of her life.

And only weeks later, she also experienced her worst.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers. I edited Chapter 27, so if you want you can go back and reread. I forgot some stuff and changed others. Ciao!

Lady Morgaine and Andromahke: Welcome to the Party! I hope it's to your liking so far. I'm glad you like my Morgaine. I'm particularly fond of her as well.

Meraculas and Natalie: Today you find out what happens to cause her world to flip upside down.

ZELINIA: You're back! Yeah. I'm glad you liked the cliffy. I do try, every once in awhile. And of course I used your idea! It's a good one. Besides, that's how we got the Defensive Daddy Galahady (Sorry HG, I couldn't resist. It was cute!)

HGandRHForever: You're a sweetheart. I'm glad you like that phrase about Morgaine teaching him how to punch. I was inspired. I'm glad it's one of your favorites. It's nice to know my work is appreciated. :)

Babak: If you read closely, today you discover what the one thing more that Morgaine wants is. Dun dun dun! Enjoy!

And now, on with the show!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Weeks passed eventless. Everyone walked carefully in anticipation of the arrival of the Saxons. They knew that they would come, but when they would come would be the ultimate question. Saxons did not ride horses, thus their travel would be slower than that of accomplished riders, namely the Sarmatian Knights, Arthur and Morgaine. During this emotionally charged interim, Morgaine spent every waking moment with her son, with Galahad and Gawain taking time to hopelessly spoil Archie when they were not in the practice yard. Arthur himself found his days filled with battle plans and Lancelot, while spending his nights with Guinevere in his bed.

On one such day, the youngest two Knights were with Morgaine and Archie in Morgaine and Galahad's chamber. Morgaine sat in her armchair, patching a hole in a pair of Gawain's trousers, watching Gawain and Galahad play with the crawling one year old. Archie thrived on their attention. Galahad was sprawled on his side, propped up on his elbow as Gawain tossed the little boy into the air and caught him, making the toddler squeal with laughter. Tilting his head back to look at his wife, Galahad smiled at her. "You're getting all domestic. A mother to your son, a wife to me, and patching holes in clothing. You almost remind me of Vanora, except the mending part. Bors is on his own with his mending. Oh and you don't slap me when we've been separated for awhile." Rubbing his jaw slightly, he commented absently, "Thank you for that by the way. I like my jaw where it is."

Morgaine mock-scowled at him, kicking him lightly in the small of the back. "And what about you? You're getting pretty domesticated too. That boy is the light in your eyes. And you know it."

Galahad shrugged, looking back at the other two occupants of the room. Archie was holding tightly to Gawain's fingers as Gawain helped the boy stand. Archie's lip was firmly between his teeth, before Gawain let him go and the boy stood by himself. Morgaine's mending fell to her lap as she stared. Leaning forward, she spoke quietly, "He's never stood without help before, Galahad. See if you can get him to walk to you."

Galahad nodded, sitting up and holding out a single hand. "Come to Daddy, Archie. Come here, son."

Archie watched his father solemnly, before grinning and dropping to his bum. The three adults chuckled, before Gawain set the boy on his feet again. "Come on, Archie, come to Daddy. Come on."

Archie let go of Gawain and took three wavering steps toward his father, before falling again. His lower lip started to tremble and Gawain moved to stand the toddler up again. "Go on, Archie, go to Daddy," the blond Knight urged gently, letting him go once more.

A tiny pink tongue came into the corner of Archie's mouth as he tottered toward his father. Finally, he dropped to his bum on his father's knee. Galahad scooped him up and tossed him into the air, laughing with the baby. "Good boy, Archie. Look at that, Mama, he walked."

"I saw that. I'm very proud of you, baby," she exclaimed to her son, her fingers trailing gently over the curve of his head.

Archie gurgled up at his parents, before pushing himself away and standing on his own. Tottering back toward Gawain, he laughed as he fell into the surprised blonde's arms. It suddenly became a great game, the little one first walking and then scampering quickly between the two Knights. Finally, exhausted with his game, the little boy curled close to his father, blinking his big green eyes tiredly. "Daddy," he whispered, before slipping away into slumber.

Morgaine's hand flew to her mouth as Galahad stared down at the baby in shock. "His first word, Sarmatian," she breathed, before slapping him fondly up the back of the head, teasing him, "How is it that your name is his first word? I carried him in my belly for nine months, cared for him by myself for more than a year and agonized over him nightly. And yet, you and Gawain teach the boy to walk and you're his first word? What kind of world is this?"

Galahad didn't even notice her gentle teasing, still staring wide-eyed at his son. "He called me Daddy."

Gawain slapped his friend's shoulder. "Congratulations my friend. I'll leave you, if you want."

"Why? Do you have somewhere else to be?" Morgaine asked, sitting back again and continuing with her mending. "Archie's sleeping, and Galahad and I would love to have your company."

Gawain nodded, sprawling out on his back and propping himself up with his elbows. "All right then, I think I will stick around."

Morgaine nodded sharply. Gawain and Galahad began to talk tactics as Morgaine continued to patch up tunics, shirts, trousers and Galahad's kilt. Archie remained nestled against his father's heart, completely content where he laid. Never had he slept so peacefully. Morgaine could only smile over her mending at the sight of all that she wanted in the world; Galahad, Archie….and Gawain.

It was that night after Archie's first word that their world flipped around them. Arthur and Guinevere were called from his chambers, rushing to the Wall to answer the summons. Guinevere looked out, gasping in horror at the Saxons there. All the Knights stood on the battlements. Galahad had his arms around Morgaine, whose own hands were linked with Vanora's, Vanora herself wrapped in her lover's embrace. "Knights, my journey with you ends here." Arthur claimed.

Galahad's eyes furrowed at the phrase, before he realized what that meant, his eyes widening in shock. Arthur turned, going down the stairs. Lancelot glared at Guinevere, before racing after him. "Arthur! Wait!"

He caught up with Arthur at the bottom of the steps. "Arthur, you can't do this."

There was a huge fight which all the Knights tried not to notice from their place on the Wall, before Arthur took Lancelot's face in both of his hands, shaking him lightly to get the stubborn, hard-headed Knight to listen. "Live your life for the both of us, Lancelot. I cannot follow you. I know now what all these years have led me to."

Morgaine looked up at Galahad, eyes tearing in pain. "I can't leave him, Sarmatian."

Galahad looked down at her, resigned. "I know, Nazneen. And I won't leave you behind alone."

Gawain spoke. "And everyone knows that if I leave Galahad alone, he'll get himself killed, so I guess I'm staying behind too."

"I'll have you that I would just fine on my own. But it is bad luck to fight without someone you trust at your back. Welcome aboard," Galahad replied cheerily, the two men clasping arms.

Morgaine looked up at the both of them. "You don't have to stay. You can return to Sarmatia, and I will meet up with you there."

"No thanks, we'll stick around. It's easier to keep a close eye on you that way." Gawain joked, before gesturing at the stairs. "We have to tell Arthur."

Bors grabbed the two of them. "Not without us, you're not. You're not going to get all of the glory for yourselves."

Dagonet nodded, Lucan held in his arms with the boy's arms around his neck. Morgaine spoke up desperately, trying to give them their long awaited freedom, unwilling to take away all they had wished for and fought for, for so long. "You're free men. You no longer have to fight for Rome."

Her heart simultaneously swelled and snapped at their immediate denials. "We don't fight for Rome, Lady. We fight for Arthur and you. This is our land, just as much as it is yours. We have fought and died for it. The least we can do is to protect it one last time," Tristan insisted, his voice calm and cold, as it always was.

Only Morgaine had noticed the difference in the stoic Knight. Where once he was aloof and distant, taking company with only his hawk, he had since begun to be part of the whole, drinking and conversing with his fellow Knights but at the same time, keeping his distance. She mused that some things never changed before wondering absently why no one else seemed to notice it. Morgaine nodded in acquiescence, all of them running down the stairs to stand beside Arthur. "Arthur, we're staying here with you," Galahad insisted.

Arthur shook his head. "No, you're not. You're going to go home. This isn't your fight."

Morgaine stepped forward. "Then I'm staying."

Arthur shook his head, taking her shoulders gently between his hands. "No, sister, you will go with Galahad, Archie and Gawain back to Sarmatia. You will have many sons and at least one daughter as strongly willed as you. But you will not stay here. I refuse to let you stay here and die."

Morgaine looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. "This was my land first, Artorius Castus."

"And I will protect it for you. But you have a son and a husband to concern yourself with. You _will_ mind me in this, Morgaine."

Morgaine glared at her brother before shaking her shoulders violently out of his grip, dashing toward the stables. Galahad looked up at Arthur as Arthur touched his arm. "She is now your responsibility, Galahad. Take care of her."

Galahad nodded, clasping hands with his commander before going after his wife. Gawain looked up at Arthur, "I will look after them both, Arthur. Always."

Arthur nodded, grateful that he did not have to ask it of him. "Thank you, Gawain."

Gawain nodded, taking a deep breath and going to the stables to help Galahad do battle with the furious pixie. Bors clasped Arthur's shoulder and elbow, "Take care of yourself, Arthur."

"I will Bors. Take care of Vanora, and if you should have another son, maybe you might name him something that reminds you of me."

Bors nodded solemnly, replying, "It would be an honor to have a child with your name, Artorius."

Vanora hugged Arthur silently, unable to say anything as she dashed away. Dagonet and Lucan both shook hands with Arthur solemnly, causing Arthur to look straight into Lucan's eyes and inquire, "You'll look after him for me, won't you?"

Lucan nodded, tightening his arms around Dagonet's neck. Arthur nodded once. "Good."

Dagonet and Arthur shook hands silently, before carrying the boy away. Finally, it was only Lancelot and Arthur that remained. "You will live a good life for me, right Lancelot?"

"Always. Try not to get killed. I won't be able to save you this time." Lancelot reminded him, before hugging Arthur tightly and striding away quickly.

After their disappearance, only Guinevere remained. "They will be safe, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, pulling Guinevere close to him, and tucking her lithe form under his chin. "Come, let's to bed, while we still can."

Morgaine stood in the stables, pacing back and forth and screaming at the walls. The horses, used to her being gentle and calm, were lined up in their stalls, staring at her in curiosity. Galahad came in and crossed his arms. "You know, the horses haven't done anything to you. Must you damage their ears?"

Morgaine whirled, glaring at her husband. He wore black pants, a black shirt and black boots, the usual leather tunic discarded over the top of a stall to his left. Momentarily thrown off by his steady calmness, she started to rant and rage again. Gawain joined Galahad moments later, smirking at her. "She reminds me of you a little, Galahad. You were never quiet during your temper tantrums. Everyone had to know you were furious."

Galahad glared, snapping, "This is hardly the time for a rehashing of my previous childishness."

Gawain chuckled, before returning his attention to a furious Morgaine. "Previous? Being a little optimistic, aren't you? So, do you want to take care of this, or should I?"

"I'll do it," Galahad insisted, before coming forward to touch Morgaine's arm.

She wrenched away, screeching, "Don't touch me! Don't think that just because you're touching me, you can calm me down! It's not going to happen!"

Galahad ignored her, grabbing her arms in his hands and tightening his grip. Despite her struggles, screams and curses, she couldn't break free from his hold. Finally, she sagged forward into his arms, Gawain smoothing his hands over her back as Galahad held her close. "I understand why you're angry, Morgaine. But there is nothing we can do. Arthur said he would protect this land."

Morgaine moaned, shaking her head, "He'll die if he stays here alone."

"If that is his destiny, then so be it," Gawain said, attempting to instill some measure of common sense in her head.

Morgaine looked up at Gawain, her blue eyes piercing into his own baby blues. "There is no such thing as destiny. Only free will. And he is grievously misusing that right to free will."


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

The Lady Morgaine: I'm glad you like this story. And I think that everyone should have an equal standing on the story, which is why I take time to describe everyone. It's important to know your characters. And I'm glad you realized about Galahad. I was trying to explain why he was so angry and loathing throughout the movie, and this was the way I did it.

HGandRHForever: Don't worry about the love story yet, it's nothing graphic. And I'm glad you like Daddy Galahady! It's my favorite way to write him; sweet, kind, tender and loving. Really doesn't go with the movie, does it? ;)

Chris: Thank you for updating. We'll talk about Grammar later.

Babak: I think everything will come into bigger focus as we go along. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

ZELINIA: Thank you for sympathizing with Morgaine. I totally understand her dismay! Don't you? I hope you like this chapter.

Natalie: Sup? Here's your new chapter?

Now, on with the show!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next morning found the convoy riding away from the Wall, protected from Saxon eyes by the walls of billowing black smoke. Archie sat quiet and still on the saddle in front of his mother, seeming to understand that it was not the time for fun and laughter. Galahad and Gawain were on each side of them, protecting them despite Morgaine's talent for taking care of herself. Alecto and his mother, Lady Diane sat quiet in their carriage, Alecto leaning out the window and watching the landscape go by forlornly. The only sound came from the clip clop of the horses. Vanora was walking beside a wagon that carried her children, the eleven sons and daughters of Bors talking quietly amongst themselves. It was too quiet. And so the sound of Saxon drums did not come as a surprise.

About a mile from the Wall, the beats of Saxon drums were suddenly louder than they had been, spooking the horses, the steeds rolling their eyes, rearing up and prancing nervously. "Whoa!" came Lancelot's low croon, the other riders following his example. "Easy!"

They danced out of the line, stopping the convoy and bringing their riders about-face. Lancelot's hand stroked gently across his stallion's neck, soothing frazzled nerves with the caress. As the horses calmed, the Knights looked up, and smiled sadly at the sight of Arthur standing alone on the hill, his standard waving and all decked out in full armor. Nibbling on her lower lip for a moment, Morgaine finally made her choice and turned her horse toward the wagon full of Vanora's children. Three of the boys were leaning against the sides, watching their father carefully. Looking down at Vanora, Morgaine handed the redhead her son. Archie perched on the woman's hip, his frightened eyes watching his mother steadily. The mother smiled at her child, caressing his cheek fleetingly. Meeting Vanora's eyes, she begged, "Look after him for me?"

Vanora seemed to understand immediately and nodded, knowing that what she was about to do was something that had to do. It was a matter of Morgaine's honor. Moving into the shadows, Morgaine began to strip out of her formal riding gown, and dressed into her warrior's kilt and brassiere, both garments made for mobility of movement. (Why do you think Galahad wore it? To show off his legs? ;)) Reaching into the weapons cart she sighed heavily, pulling out both of hers swords, her longbow and three quivers of arrows. Swinging back atop Mary-Megan, she turned to Galahad and Gawain, immediately surprised that they hadn't moved to follow her example. "Are you coming?" she snapped, her blue eyes jumping with flames. Leaning forward on her saddle, she asked sardonically, "Or are you just going to stand there and stare?"

Galahad sighed in frustration, leaning forward against the saddle horn. He had watched his wife detachedly, unable to understand why it was that she was getting dressed for battle. But now, it was clear. She was going to disobey Arthur. She was going to stay and fight. "Nazneen, I was serious. If you stay, I'm staying. I'm your husband; you know I won't leave you behind."

Gawain swung down from Brute, patting the antsy stallion's neck calmingly. Moving toward his gear, he reminded them both. "And if both of you are staying, then I'm staying. Someone has to make sure you three don't get killed."

Lancelot spoke up with a nonchalant shrug, "And someone's gotta make sure none of you three get killed. If any of you died, Arthur would kill me."

The Knights all exchanged looks and grinned, before each dismounted and moved toward their gear, smiling in anticipation of the fight to come. They realized then why they had been so heavy-hearted about leaving Britain behind. They had only been looking for an excuse to stay behind. The Saxon drums had provided it, with Morgaine's strong-willed determination driving it home. When they were all attired in full armor for war, Galahad was back in his kilt, causing Morgaine to smile. She bent down from her heavily armored horse, whispering in his ear, "You'll wear that later tonight, right?"

Her eyes were serious, the teasing tone in her voice belied by the heaviness there. "You have my word." Galahad whispered back, telling her more than that he would do more than just wear the kilt. He would live, he would survive and they would live happily ever after. Leaning up, he caught her lips with his own for a desperate, longing embrace before moving away from her side and swinging up atop a prancing Dar.

Everyone looked at Lancelot first, seeming to know that he needed to be the first to arrive at Arthur's side. Arthur had to know that his friends would never desert him; and the arrival of the one Knight most outspoken about getting off the Island of Britain should drive that point home effectively. "You go first, we'll follow you." Morgaine said, gesturing him out front.

Lancelot nodded, kicking his horse into a gallop and riding hard toward the hills, his horse stretched out and their bodies moving in total harmony. Bors, Tristan and Dagonet were next, while Gawain, Galahad and Morgaine each pressed a final kiss farewell to their son. Morgaine touched Vanora's cheek. "Please, keep an eye on Lucan as well for Dagonet. Dag would be heartbroken if something was to happen to the boy. I will protect what you love, Vanora, so I ask that you protect all that I love."

Vanora nodded, smiling gratefully in response to her promise to protect the Knights, and especially Bors. She touched Morgaine's cheek as well, before bringing Archie closer. "Daddy? Momma?" the little boy asked, confused about why his mother and father wouldn't respond to his gestures to be picked up, his arms out and hands grasping toward them both. Turning to Gawain, Gawain nearly broke down at the tears in the little boy's eyes, "Papa?"

Gawain whirled away, riding a short ways away. Morgaine reached down and touched her son's face. "Momma and Daddy and Papa have to go away for a little while. But we'll be back as soon as we can."

Archie shook his head. "No Momma. No."

"I'm sorry baby," Morgaine sobbed, closing her eyes. Galahad and Morgaine whirled their horses around, coming to stand with Gawain, Morgaine once again between the two Knights. Then they too were riding hard for Badon Hill.

When Lancelot arrived there, Arthur looked at him with a small smile. "Can't let you have all the glory, can I?" Lancelot asked rhetorically, as Bors rode up shouting, "RUS!"

Arthur and Lancelot chuckled, turning to face them. Morgaine rode up to Arthur, causing him to immediately go red. "Morgaine! I told you…."

"I know what you told me, brother, but you'll need the extra help. My bow and both of my swords are strong and reliable. You know that. You need my help. This is my land, Arthur I will protect it. And like hell I'm going to leave all of you to get yourselves killed!"

Arthur looked at Galahad and Gawain. "If she dies, I'll hang you both up by your toes."


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

Chapter Thirty

Both Knights nodded, trapping Mary-Megan between them again. Arthur rode to the front of the column, his horse striding back and forth in front of them. "If this be our destiny, then so be it. But let it be known that as free men, we chose to make it so."

Morgaine looked over her shoulder, holding up one sword at the sight of her Dark Father on the other side of the hill. Merlin held up his staff over his head, saluting her calmly. "Bless you, my Darkest Child. Stay alive, and keep those you love alive as well," he murmured, turning to his second in command, Briac. "Keep an eye on my Dark Child and those that she loves. No Knight shall die at a Saxon hand or I will kill you myself."

Briac nodded, bowing slightly, causing Morgaine to smile. "Bless you my Dark Father."

Arthur looked over at where Merlin, now a trusted ally, stood amongst his Woad trebuchets. "Thank God you are on my side now, Morgaine. I don't think your father would ever go against you."

Morgaine smiled, shaking her head. "I am on his side, Arthur, and I know you would never go against me. Thus, why we're all on the same side of the battlefield this time."

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, just as the first part of the Saxon army entered the burned out area on their side of the Wall. Arthur looked at Tristan, causing him to nod once and pull back an arrow. Aiming it, he allowed himself a cold smile, before letting it fly. Morgaine grinned evilly as the Briton traitor fell from the tree, dead. "Nice shot, Tristan," she congratulated him, before Arthur dropped his sword and a barrage of Woad arrows came flying from the woods to their right, piercing through Saxon armor and filling the air with Saxon screams.

Arthur nodded at his friends and fellow Knights, drawing his sword from its scabbard. The remaining Knights followed suit, sending up their battle cry, before charging the disoriented Saxon army, leaving Morgaine standing alone and defiant on the hill. Swords and knife sliced through flesh and throats, mortally wounding some and killing many. As they turned to anticipate the next charge, another barrage of arrows pierced into their unprotected backsides. Turning to defend themselves from the arrows, they left their backs unguarded, allowing the horsed Knights to ride through and dispatch them easily.

Moment passed and it was over, the Knights returning to where Morgaine was still sitting proud of Mary-Megan. She smiled, nodding solemnly. "There's nothing left of them, Arthur. Congratulations."

Arthur smiled at her. "Are you ready to kill some Saxons, my darling Fire-Sister?"

"Very ready, my Fire-Brother." Morgaine assured him, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "May my blades drink their blood," she muttered in Sarmatian.

Galahad and Gawain nodded firmly in reply. "Agreed," they muttered, before the main army marched through the gates. They split up, just as Arthur had anticipated. Guinevere and her archers pulled back on their flaming arrows, and let loose, sinking them into the trench full of pitch and tar. As the army was split by the roaring flames, Arthur turned to Morgaine, nodding once. She blew once on her ivory horn, calling the attack. Guinevere and the Woads charged the Saxons, while the Knights and Morgaine went streaming down the hill, their battle cries rending the air.

The battle became all consuming, but Morgaine always kept her eyes on the men that she had pledged her allegiance to at 14. Galahad remained unscathed, his bow unleashing fury upon all those who came within his range. Though she could not hear him, she heard Gawain give a loud **pained **cry and started to murmur a fervent prayer for his survival under her breath. Arthur dispatched his opponents easily, in that zone that had been admired by his Knights. Lancelot's double blades swung effortlessly, cutting Saxon warriors down right and left. She herself was accomplished at using both bow and swords.

As the battle began to slow to an end, the Saxon king, Cedric, had Tristan pinned down. Seeing Tristan start to falter, Morgaine, the only person still on her horse, whirled Mary-Megan around and began to charge. Just as Tristan hit his knees, Morgaine was there, her bow lodging an arrow firmly in Cedric's eye. Seconds later, Arthur joined her, slicing Cedric's head off triumphantly. "That might have been overkill, brother," she gasped, fighting off the Saxons from atop Mary-Megan.

Arthur chuckled with a wry nod, "But it felt good. Get Tristan out of here."

She nodded, leaning down and hauling Tristan up onto the mare behind her. Riding hard for the wall of flames, she forced Mary-Megan up and over it while Lancelot was doing the same beside her. They clanged swords in companionship, calling out to each other, "Stay alive."

Lancelot nodded once at her, and immediately engaged Guinevere's attacker, Cyrnic, in fierce combat. Morgaine continued for the trees, helping Tristan slide off and settle back against a tree out of sight. "Stay here. Stay alive!" she ordered, before wheeling Mary-Megan around and heading back for the battlefield.

She found Lancelot in heavy combat. She could see the treachery in Cyrnic's eyes, and also noticed the untended Saxon crossbow. "Lance! Look out!" she screamed, notching an arrow in her bow and letting it fly.

The arrow cut into Cyrnic's heart seconds before he left the bolt fly. The impact of Morgaine's arrow threw off his aim and the bolt buried itself low in Lancelot's shoulder, the head penetrating deeply through muscle and tissue. "No!" she screamed, dismounting and rushing to his side, at the same time Guinevere dropped to her knees beside him.

Guinevere took his hands, pleading with him, "Don't go, Lancelot. I can't carry him alone."

"You're going to have to," Lancelot breathed.

Morgaine arrived just in time to see his eyes start to slip closed. "Now who's being ridiculous," Morgaine scolded in Sarmatian, shaking Lancelot's shoulder sharply to jostle the shoulder and snap him awake. "You listen to me, Lancelot of Sarmatia. You will not die. Now wake up."

Arthur joined them, looking genuinely grieved at the sight of his best friend and most trusted Knight fighting for his life. "Lancelot!" he cried, dropping to his knees and gathering Lancelot close.

Morgaine laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Listen to me, Arthur, we can save him; the wound is not too serious. Where are the others?" she pleaded, shaking him sharply when he didn't respond. "Where are the others!" she demanded, before whirling at the sound of the two voices she loved more than any others. "Lady!" called Gawain's pained voice, as Galahad shouted, panicked, "Nazneen, he's injured!"

Morgaine touched Arthur's arm, ordering him quietly. "Take him back to the village on Mary-Megan. I'll find Bartholomew and follow you. Bors, help him. Dagonet, come with me."

Dagonet nodded, following Morgaine as she ran pell-mell to Galahad and Gawain. She completely disregarded the blood on them both, throwing her arms around them indiscriminately.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Chris: Yes, everything Sarmatian and Woad and etc, is conveniently invented. ;)

:OP: Welcome to the party! I hope this suits you. ;)

Lady Morgaine: I'm glad you like my whole take on all of this. I thought that A/G/L was so overplayed, so I took another angle. And I'm glad you like Archie! He's one of my favorite characters to write. I hope you like this chapter.

Babak: Thank you for the kudos! I love having a kick butt female. They're usually all I write, well, in a feminine capacity.

Andromahke: I wasn't going for the whole "Lancelot is a drama queen!" thing, but I'm glad you liked it anyway. It was fun to write, sometimes Morgaine just has a mind of her own and I have to let her go.

ZELINIA: I hope you got my email. And I hope you like this new chapter.

Chapter Thirty-One

The two Knights wrapped her close, their arms around her waist. They stood there for a moment, as Morgaine prayed to her Gods in thanks for their survival, before speaking aloud, "Thank the Gods you're both safe. Where's your injury, Gawain?"

Gawain pulled his hand away, displaying the entry wound of a Saxon crossbow bolt. Morgaine probed it with her tiny fingers, breathing a soft sigh. She nodded sharply, pressing a lint pad to the wound and forcing Gawain's stiff fingers to hold it there. "Galahad, you go with him, Bors, Lancelot and Arthur back to the village. Lancelot is in no condition to fight, Arthur's in shock and Gawain's arm is starting to stiffen. You and Bors are the only ones capable of holding a sword. I have to go get Tristan and then I'll be right behind you."

"But…" Galahad protested.

"I'll have Dagonet with me. Go now." When he didn't move, she switched from Briton to Sarmatian, giving him a sharp order, "Mind me, Sarmatian."

Galahad nodded, helping Gawain swing up onto Brute, leading the both of them after Arthur's yearling, which carried a shell-shocked Arthur, while Lancelot swayed atop Mary-Megan. Dagonet, meanwhile, had retrieved both his own horse, and Lancelot's stallion, Bartholomew. Morgaine swung onto the gigantic warhorse and turned toward where she had left Tristan. Tristan sat slumped against the tree, eyes closed in exhausted sleep. Dismounting, Morgaine pressed two fingers to his throat, breathing a sigh of relief at the steady beat of his heart against her fingers. "He still lives." Binding the gushing wounds crudely, she stepped backwards and gestured at his body, "We must hurry or we'll loose him."

Dagonet lifted the motionless Knight over his shoulder, draping him carefully across the saddle. Turning toward the village, the two pushed their horses hard. They burst into the gates, Morgaine swinging down once outside the stables. "Come, bring him to the infirmary."

Dagonet nodded, lifting the motionless scout over his shoulder and following Morgaine to the infirmary. Inside, Morgaine found ordered chaos. "Arthur, get out! You're driving me crazy already," she ordered her agitated older brother.

Arthur nodded, leaving without protest. Turning to Guinevere, she said, "If you're staying, be useful. Get water. Plenty of it."

Guinevere ran to do as told. Galahad present different problem. "Love, move for a second. I need to stop the bleeding."

Galahad moved, letting Morgaine stop the blood pulsing from Gawain's shoulder. Taking Galahad's hand, she pressed it hard against the pad. "Keep pressure on it. I'll be right back. I have to help Lancelot and Tristan first. Their injuries are far more grievous."

Galahad nodded, pressing on the pad firmly. Reaching up, Morgaine moved a lock of blond hair out of Gawain's face. "Hang in there, Gawain. I'll be right back."

He nodded, closing his eyes in agony. Morgaine squeezed Galahad's shoulder tightly, before moving to Lancelot. There were cuts, scrapes and bruises in addition to the bolt wound, but none were immediately life threatening. Examining Tristan, she immediately ascertained that this was not the case; the three cuts left by Cedric's sword were serious in their silent threats to bleed Tristan to death.

Grabbing a knife, she hacked away at the tough armor and tunic under it. Laying his torso bare, she washed her hands with strong lye soap, before beginning to wash and stitch the gaping gashes in his chest and back. Slipping him something to keep him under the influence of healing oblivion, she returned to Lancelot. She could hear Galahad talking softly to Gawain behind her as she carefully extracted the bolt. Shoving the arrow into the side of the cabinet, she cleaned out the wound and stitched it shut, all the while thanking the heavens that he was unconscious. She pulled the covers up to his chin and stroked back his curls. "Rest brother, and get well," she whispered, kissing his forehead softly, before standing.

Guinevere returned as Morgaine moved to Gawain's bedside. "What can I do?" she inquired, obviously not comfortable in a sickroom, among the ill and infirmed.

"Go get Bors and Dagonet. I'm going to need their assistance shortly."

Gawain looked up at her, seeing the shadows in his eyes. "What is it, Lady?"

"The arrowhead is still in your shoulder, Gawain. I don't want to risk infection."

Gawain's eyes closed, before opening again and staring at the ceiling. "Am I going to die?"

"Now you're being ridiculous! Just like Lance was being earlier. You're not going to die, Gawain. Galahad would be absolutely miserable if you died. As would I."

He smiled briefly, watching her wash her hands thoroughly in the hot water by his head. Bors and Dagonet came in. "Ah, good, you're here. Bors, turn him onto his side and hold him there. Dagonet, make sure he doesn't move that arm."

Galahad looked at her. "What about me?"

She handed him a stout rod. "Make sure he doesn't bite through his tongue."

Galahad paled a bit, before bracing himself gamely. He slipped the rod between his teeth and held it there tightly. Morgaine placed Gawain's hand on her thigh. "Squeeze when you need me to stop so you can throw up."

Gawain nodded firmly, before his eyes clenched tightly as she grabbed a pair of tongs and slipped them inside, looking for the bolt head. They had to stop twice for Gawain to be sick, before at last the bolt came away with a sickly sounding _pop!_ "There you are, my lad. You're all right. The worst is over," she soothed, tossing the tongs onto the side table and reaching to lay him back.

Gawain slumped back into his pillows, his face whiter than even the linen upon which he laid. "Thank you, gentlemen. I can handle it from here. Bors, do you know where Vanora is?" Morgaine asked, her mind starting to panic about Archie, now that both of her Knights were safe and in her care.

"Dag and I are riding out to get her and the bastards now."

She nodded once, grabbing his arm tightly. "Bring them back here. There's nowhere safer that they could be. Dagonet, look after Lucan and Archie for me."

Dagonet nodded, silent as usual but with a gentle curve to his lips. She allowed her lips to curl in a mimic of his own mouth, before watching them go. Turning to Gawain, she stroked his sweat soaked hair from his face. "You're safe, Gawain. There's no longer anyone to protect."

"Will they make it?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

"Barring a fever, Lancelot should pull through with no trouble. But Tristan's injuries could pose more of a threat. We shall see, Gawain, we shall see. May the Gods bless you all, right?"

Gawain nodded slowly, his eyes tired. Galahad crouched beside the bed, his friend's un bloodied hand clasped tightly between his own. Morgaine bandaged the shoulder capably, before sitting on the edge of the bed, taking his other hand in hers. One hand came up to touch his forearm, rubbing the flesh gently as Galahad had seen her do with Archie when the baby was fussy and irritable. "Just close your eyes, Gawain. We will remain here for as long as you wish."

Gawain nodded, squeezing her hand as tightly as he could manage. "Don't leave me, okay?"

Morgaine shook her head, her fingers dancing agilely over his skin, attempting to calm and soothe. "I've been meaning to talk to you. Why are you so determined to protect us both, Gawain?"

"You are my world. I have had nothing good in my life since we left Sarmatia but you and Galahad. I cannot loose you, either of you." Gawain confessed, his shoulders tightening and his back arching slightly at a sharp wave of pain.

Morgaine continued to stroke bare skin, glancing at Galahad with a small smile. "I already know why you insist on protecting me," she teased fondly.

Galahad looked up at her with a wan smile, eyes frightened for his friend. Morgaine wished that she could take away that fear more than she had ever wished for anything. More than she had ever wished for home when she had been in the depths of Marius' dungeon. More than she had ever wished for Galahad when she had birthed his son. More than she had ever wished for the Wall when trapped in a mud hut in the North. Seeking to ease his concern -at least a little bit- she ruffled his curls tenderly. She leaned across and kissed his head, saying a prayer in her heart that they all would heal from the events of the last fifteen years, especially the last several hours, and not just in body, but in mind and soul as well. Turning her attention again to Gawain, she pushed back his lank, sweaty hair and kissed his head as well. "Rest, Gawain. You'll feel better after some much needed sleep," she encouraged, her fingers still stroking across bare skin.

He nodded, resting his head back against the pillows, letting his eyes slip closed and falling to sleep. After he slipped away from them, Morgaine dipped a soft cloth into a bowl of clean water beside the bed, tenderly wiping down his torso, arms and hands of dried blood, both his and Saxon. Galahad was sitting on the bed next to Gawain's, looking tired and lost, eyes fixed on his friend's body. Tucking in Gawain, Morgaine spoke to her husband quietly. "Come with me, Sarmatian. Your hurts must be tended to as well," she murmured gently in Sarmatian. Though he remained unharmed physically, there was agony in his soul and that needed to be treated as well.

A sharp gasp resounded from behind her. With a heavy sigh, Morgaine looked back over her shoulder at a nauseous-looking Guinevere. Her eyes were fixed on the bandages around Tristan, the bloody cloths next to the bed a testament to the wounds under the crisp linen. Morgaine had grown up with Guinevere and had no patience for her squeamishness. The woman could kill a dozen men coldheartedly, but she couldn't bear to see the blood she spilt while doing so. Rolling her eyes, she stood and spoke sharply to the warrior in Briton, "There's nothing left to be done here, Guinevere. Go be useful. See if you can't find my brother, Arthur, and keep an eye on him. Do not let him come down this way and do not let him be alone."

Guinevere nodded, obviously glad of the excuse to leave the infirmary. "That woman is pregnant. I wonder if she even knows. I wonder if Arthur knows," Morgaine muttered in Briton, turning back to Galahad, who was still on the bed and staring at Gawain. She stood from where she knelt beside Gawain's bed and sat down next to her husband. Taking his hand in her own, she spoke quietly in Sarmatian, "Come on, my darling-love; Gawain will be fine on his own for a little while. You need to be tended to, as well."


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

The Lady Morgaine: I'm so glad you agree with me on that. So much happens in the last battle and almost none of it is resolved. Tristan and Lancelot are buried and then The One and Future King is crowned, as well as married to his Queen. And then, all you see is three horses pounding across virgin fields. Really not satisfying. So I thought I'd help the movie along a bit. ;) And Guinevere will learn of her pregnancy soon. And yes, the crucial point in the Triangle comes today.

Babak: Isn't Morgaine the awesomest? I told you, Strong, Capable Women. They can't be all wimpy. And I really don't know what they'd do without her. Probably what they did in the movie: die.

Andromahke: Thank you for the compliment. I take a lot of time researching the kinds of medicine, and treatments that healers would have taken back then. Plus I add a few modern amenities, like washing your hands. ;) And I feel bad for putting Gawain through all of the agony, but he was shot, and it is an important part of the story.

:op: I don't know what I'm going to do with Tristan yet. Give me a second to think about it. He's in the next chapter, as a slumbering party, but Morgaine and Lancelot have an interesting conversation sparking from him.

Meraculas: I hope you like the update.

ZELINIA: Yeah, I thought that Morgaine should be the first to know about the pregnancy. It's going to be funny when she finally lets everyone else in on the secret.

HGandRHForever: Where are you baby? I miss you!

Chapter Thirty-Two

Galahad followed her from the infirmary in a daze, letting her lead him up to their chamber. Sitting him on the edge of the bed, she began to strip his body of its armor and bloody garments tenderly. Jols had obviously been busy since the end of the battle. A fire roared in the fireplace and a jug of hot water, basin and cloths sat on a table near the bed. Filling the basin with the fresh, hot water, she knelt at his feet. Focusing on her task, she soaked a towel and began to wash the sweat, blood and tears from his unresisting body. He only stared at her, seeming detached and unreachable. Once the traces of war were gone, her touch gentled. Her hands became tender and caressing instead of cleansing, and the soothing strokes seemed adept at pulling Galahad back from his reclusive trance. Though he had long been clean Morgaine continued, waiting for Galahad to make the first move. He needed some kind of comfort right now, and she knew it, offering it in the only way she knew how.

Taking her wrists in each of his own, he tightened his grip slightly, making her drop the cloth to the floor. Pulling her up, he crushed her to his lips. She sighed against his lips, letting him have his way with her and attempt to bury himself in her supple, toned flesh.

After, Galahad burrowed into her arms, struggling with his heart-wrenching anguish. She let her hands trail across his back, counting the scars quietly in Sarmatian, soothing him as best as she could. Killing had always turned Galahad's stomach, despite the ease with which he accomplished his duty. But to see three of his friends come so close to disappearing from his life forever was more than the normally controlled Knight could handle, especially after seeing so many disappear from his life in the past. She buried her lips in his hair and spoke quietly. "It's all right, Sarmatian. It's all right. Gawain will be fine. I give it until tomorrow before he's back on his feet and making an enjoyable nuisance of himself. Let's just see how many women throw themselves at him, eager to play 'nurse' to him, catering to his every whim because of his injury."

She knew she'd broken through his walls when he chuckled a little against her chest. Continuing to run her fingers through his curls, she continued the consoling flow of words, using humor to bring him back to her. "And Lancelot? I might have to tie that man to his bed in about a week, just to make sure he rests," she exaggerated, sighing heavily in mock-exasperation.

"And Tristan?" Galahad asked. He'd seen her face and knew the extent of the scout's injuries. Could she so easily assure him of the tracker's recovery?

Morgaine thought for a moment, before shrugging hopelessly. "I might have to just kill Tristan myself, actually. I mean, he's going to be a terrible patient, I can tell already. I might have to just poison him and have done with him. But then, my beautiful bandaging job will go right down the drain, so that's not an option."

Galahad knew what she was doing and loved her the more for it, chuckling lightly in amusement. "You can't kill a person, Nazneen. Remember Bedivere?"

Morgaine sobered, remembering the one and only man she'd ever killed using her Dark Father's teachings. "Yes, I remember Bedivere. Did Lucan ever forgive me?"

"Eventually. When he died, he told Gawain to tell me that he didn't really blame you. He just needed someone to take his pain out on." Morgaine nodded, her fingers stilling momentarily. Galahad looked up at her with shining eyes. "You don't still blame yourself for Vere do you?"

Morgaine shook her head with a small, wan smile. "No. He was dying, and as Arthur said, I only offered mercy to a dying man."

Galahad nodded, leaning up to kiss her. "Good. Because none of us blamed you. Gawain, Lancelot, Arthur, you and I are the only ones who know that you used the mushrooms to help Bedivere along."

She nodded, running her fingers through his hair. "Sleep, Sarmatian. You have earned the rest. Tomorrow begins the first day of our new future."

Galahad hunkered down among the blankets, falling asleep easily. And for the first time in two years, he didn't have a single nightmare. Morgaine lay beside him, sleepless for hours, just watching him sleep, he lips curved into a small, peaceful smile. "I love you Sarmatian," she murmured, burying her lips into her lover's hair.

After midnight, Morgaine slipped naked from her bed, slipping on a gossamer robe. Grabbing one of her swords, she slung it diagonally across her back. Going onto the battlements, she held up the blade over her head, causing the moonlight to blink off brightly in a variety of patterns. A ball of moonlight flashed back at her, broken up in a mix of lengths. Morgaine responded in kind, before smiling and sheathing the blade again. Turning from the battlements, she returned to the infirmary. Gawain laid awake on his cot, staring tiredly at the pitcher of water just out of his reach. "Gawain?" she asked quietly, coming to his bed and resting a gentle hand on his forehead. She just barely managed to hold in her dismay at the heat radiating from his flesh.

"Lady," he moaned, shifting slightly in agony. Turning to face her, he moaned again, "Please."

Morgaine poured the blonde a cup of water, tipping it to his lips slowly. Gawain drank greedily, sagging back against the mattress when he had drank his fill. Catching sight of the sword, he questioned, "The blade?"

"The better to kill you with, my dear," she teased, before laughing softly at his unconvinced look. "No, I spoke with my father. I had asked him the status of our island….whether our victory was complete. He said that his scouts report that the Saxons have gone and we are safe. I replied that I was appreciative of the news and I loved him. After which, I came down here."

"How?"

"We used the reflections of the moon against polished iron, Gawain. I'll teach you and Galahad if you want me to."

"Easier to sneak…long distances." Gawain murmured, his eyes drifting closed again.

"It works for the Woads, that's all I know. Sleep, Gawain. You have earned the rest."

Gawain nodded, taking her hand gently. "I love you, Lady."


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: I altered Chapter Thirty-Three a bit. There was some confusion. And I didn't want people to be confused anymore.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Smoothing gentle fingers over his cheek, she replied sincerely, "I love you, too, Gawain. Sleep."

Gawain coughed slightly, his eyes drifting closed. Morgaine stayed where she was, instinctively knowing that he didn't like being alone and awake in the infirmary. His eyes fluttered open again and now she could see tears. "Galahad…angry?" he asked, his words stilted and breathing labored.

Rolling her eye fondly at the stubborn young warrior, she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked Gawain sternly in the eyes. "I don't know if he'll be angry, Gawain. I'll talk to him in the morning. Sleep, or I will not give you a choice in the matter," she ordered, a small smile lessening the sting of the threat.

Gawain nodded tiredly, slipping into oblivion once more. Checking quickly on her most grievously injured patient, she was not surprised to see Tristan fighting the sleeping draught he'd been given earlier in the evening. She gently tipped more of the noxious concoction to his lips, the murky liquid sliding easily past his lips and down his throat. Setting the mug down, she sat back and watched as the scout tripped back through the passageway into the Land of Morpheus. "Sleep well, Tristan," she murmured, brushing a lank braid out of his face.

She jumped slightly as Lancelot's voice floated behind her, teasing gently, "Ooh, you're going to be in trouble when he finds out you did that."

Morgaine turned to face him, glaring slightly, but unable to completely hide her smile. "I don't think he'll be too inclined to protest too much. He's not going to be inclined to do anything at all, for several weeks at least. How are you feeling, Lance?" she asked, coming to perch precariously on the edge of the bed next to him.

"I feel fine. My chest is sore, compliments of the bolt. But I feel fine."

"Just don't move that arm too much, all right?" she asked, scolding absently as Gawain began to cough, Lance watched her, trying to gage her concern for his friend, and noticed that it took all of Morgaine's energy not to race over and try to help. Moments later, the blond Knight calmed again and glided deeper into sleep. "Gawain is beginning to burn," Morgaine murmured, her hands twisting together anxiously. "I fear that poison flows through his blood now."

Lancelot propped up carefully onto his good arm, reaching with his bad one to touch her knee, wisely hiding a wince from a scolding Morgaine. "Do you really love him, Lady?"

Looking down in concern, she cocked an eyebrow in question. "Just how much of that conversation did you hear?"

"I asked you a question, Morgaine; do you really love him?"

Turning her head to look back at Gawain's slumbering form, she nodded helplessly. "Yes, I always have. But I didn't -and still don't- want to hurt Galahad."

"Do you love Galahad any less?" Lancelot asked, curiously.

"Never; if anything, my love for him only grows," she confessed.

"It make sense in a way," the curly haired Knight insisted nonchalantly. Glancing at him, he silently wondered if she would take the bait.

She did.

"Really? Do tell." Morgaine inquired dryly.

Lancelot pushed himself up on his pillows, accepting Morgaine's help silently. "Galahad and Gawain have always been inseparable; those two are two halves of the same coin. To love one and not the other just doesn't seem natural. They've always shared everything, they ride together, they fight together, they stand together against anything. There were even a few fresh-faced young barmaids, as I recall, when Galahad was younger and the name Morgan le Faye had never touched upon Sarmatian ears."

Morgaine nodded, pouring a cup of liquid and pressing it into Lancelot's steady hand. "So what are you saying?" she inquired, watching with satisfaction as he drained the cup of every drop.

"I'm saying, talk to Galahad. It's possible that he already knows and was just waiting for you to say something, before he acted upon it."

His eyes started to grow heavy and Morgaine's lips started to curl in approval. His sharp eyes caught the curvature, murmuring, "I really hate you some times," before the sleeping powder caught up with him and he slept.

Morgaine caught the cup as it tumbled empty toward the bed. "Good night, brother. I'll see you in the morning. If you can, you can yell at me then."

Hauling him flat against the mattress again, she checked on each of her patients one last time before turning down the lantern and returning to her own bedchamber. Galahad still slept and Morgaine took a moment, shrouded by the silence of the night to watch him. He had never slept easily, even when she was at the Wall before, but to hear Vanora tell of it… Galahad had not slept at all, not while she had been gone. Now, as she watched him, he slept soundly, almost peacefully. It was quite a startling change. Sighing silently, she slipped the robe from her shoulders and slid between the covers of the bed. To ruin the only serenity he'd had in fifteen years would be the worst thing she could do.

She wouldn't talk to him about Gawain. She would let him have this tranquility.

A week later, Morgaine sat at Gawain's bedside, trying to stem the fever that rushed through his body. She had been right and his body burned with a vengeance, bringing pain and agony to every sense. Blood poisoning was her enemy now and she fought the demon with the same single-mindedness that she had exhibited on the battlefield against the Saxons. Galahad stood in the doorway, watching her work. "Morgaine, are you ever going to tell me?"

Morgaine whirled, startled, before cocking her head at Galahad, shocked and confused by his usage of her given name. "Tell you what?"

"That you're in love with him."


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: I altered Chapter Thirty-Three a bit. There was some confusion. And I didn't want people to be confused anymore. And now….Kindly words for my kindly reviewer.

Babak: I hope the changes help you understand Morgaine's feelings for Gawain and Galahad. She doesn't love one more than the other. What I meant was that her love she felt for Galahad was growing, as her love for Gawain grew as well.

Andromahke: I'm glad you liked that whole Lancelot-Morgaine talk. I've kind of made her his little sister in this story, so I thought that if anyone could explain the uniqueness of their relationship to Morgaine, it would Lance. He's one of my favorite characters, and he's so fun to write. And Galahad is Morgaine's husband. He knows her every thought, because he loves her. Gawain lets him know, but Galahad already knew.

The Lady Morgaine: I love how you could sense that. Morgaine is a Healer. She wants nothing more than to be able to rescue them from their pain and make it all better again. And, yes, she will have her happiness.

HGandRHForever: You're back! ;) :) I've missed you so much. And I don't mind that you can't write more; at least you updated. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And I'm glad you like my relationship between the three. I know that some people get the heebie-jeebies and so I wanted to make it obvious, but tasteful. I love this grouping, though, I'll say that right now.

Anyway, on with the show!

Chapter Thirty-Four

Morgaine jerked, before standing. "Can we talk about this outside?"

Galahad nodded, gesturing her ahead of him. "Of course," he agreed quietly, understanding that she didn't want to disturb her patient.

"How did you know?" she asked, keeping her voice down. Lancelot was awake and had been so for hours. Arthur had asked that she start to allow those who were healing enough, to start coming back to full strength and active duty.

"Gawain told me that he suspected you were in love with him. And that's why you don't discriminate between the two of us. I told him that I already knew that and that I was just waiting for you to say something. Why do you think that I kept asking if there was anything you wanted to tell me? Ever since the battle I've asked you the same question, and every time I got the same answer. You'd tell me no."

Morgaine gripped his hands, pleading with him, desperate to make sure that he didn't hate her. "I would never do anything to hurt you, Galahad. You know that right?"

Galahad nodded once. "I figured that out on my own, Morgaine, the day you saved my life in Woad territory." Pausing, he moved to the window of the infirmary and looked out toward where Badon Hill stood, richly saturated in blood and littered with scorch marks. "So, you're in love with him?" he questioned slightly.

"Yes, Galahad, I am."

"Do you still love me?"

Morgaine came to his side and placed a gentle hand on his forearm, her eyes earnest as he looked down at her. "My love for you grows with every passing moment, Sarmatian. There is no limit to the horizons my love can touch. It is as vast as the sea and as endless."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Galahad asked, looking at her plaintively, trying to understand everything. He'd known that she loved Gawain, but sometimes that didn't make it any easier.

"I thought that you would hate me. I love Gawain, yes, but I won't lose you, Galahad. You are my husband, and the father of my son. If you didn't know, I could never do anything about it and you would be at peace. I would give anything to protect the peace you've worked so hard to achieve."

Galahad smiled at her. "I love you, Nazneen, nothing will ever change that. I made vows on our wedding day that said I would take your burdens, your tears and your life as my own. I have always, and will always, stand true to those vows," he declared, taking her face gently between his hands.

Morgaine watched him steadily, waiting to see what he would say next. "Sometimes you are the most frustrating woman in the world. Gawain is my best friend; we've been inseparable since Arthur brought us here. Somehow, I've always known that one day, we would fall for the same woman, and she would be our salvation from this hell we've inhabited for fifteen years. I've known that Gawain was in love with you since when you were still at the Wall. And no matter how jealous it made me when it was a Knight, or Jols, or one of those Roman pigs who walked around here like they owned the place…," he ranted, causing Morgaine to interrupt, "which they did."

Galahad scowled and continued unheeded, "…it never made me jealous, because it was Gawain. He was my best friend and it was so easy for him to fall in love with you; you were so kind to him, something so few people ever were to us. Lancelot can seduce a million women, but after… they go back to their Roman husbands and they forget 'the Slave to Rome' even exists. You were different from everyone else; the Sarmatian blood that tainted us to others brought you into our circle as well. You were so much a child, and yet more a woman that many of us could ever remember. Compassionate and merciless, fiery and complacent."

Morgaine lunged into Galahad's arms, sobbing quietly. "I love you, Sarmatian."

Galahad closed his eyes, pulling her to him tightly, burying his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. "And I love you, Nazneen. Next time, just confess and save yourself the stress and worry. You'll live longer, I promise you."

Morgaine smiled tearfully, kissing him hard. Taking his hand, she led him back into the sickroom and directing her attention to Gawain. "I can't bring down his fever, Sarmatian. I'm worried."

"It'll be all right. He's strong. Have you tried fire-root?"

"There's no poison. The fire-root would only make the fever hotter."

"But don't they say to fight fire with fire?"

"Not in this case. If I could, I'd use willow bark, but it promotes bleeding."

Galahad nodded. "Have you tried the snow?"

"Snow? What snow?" Morgaine asked, confused, looking up at him. "There's no snow."

"It's snowing, Morgaine. Has been since last night."

"That just might work. Find Bors and Dagonet. Have them gather as much snow as they can into buckets. We have to get him cool, Galahad, or we'll loose him. The fever will burn his brain and he'll be lost to us."

Galahad kissed her hard and moved to find assistance. Morgaine returned her attention to Gawain, all the while praying to the Gods to spare him, for both hers and Galahad's sakes. A gentle hand gripped her wrist weakly and she looked down. "Gawain! How are you feeling?" she cried, dropping to her knees next to his bed, holding his hand tightly in her own.

"Tired. So hot."

"I know. We're working on that, love, I promise."

"Galahad?"

"Kind of. He confronted me about it."

"Sounds like….always….impatient one."

She smiled, stroking his braids from his face. "I'm coming to understand that actually."

Gawain smiled slightly, resting back. "Love us...same? Not...won't bother."

"You're being absurd. I already love you the same. Hush now," she murmured, stroking his hair back from his face. His eyes started to drift closed and Morgaine smiled at his drowsy countenance. "We're going to see if the snow can't help reduce your fever."

Gawain nodded slightly. "Kay. Love you."

"And I love you, darling. Rest."

Gawain slipped back into fitful sleep, as the door opened and buckets of snow came into the infirmary. "Good. Take them into that room there. Galahad, come help me lift him. We can't soak the main infirmary; Arthur would kill me."

Galahad pulled one of Gawain's arms over his shoulders, as Morgaine did the same for the other. "All right, on three," Galahad encouraged, bracing to take his friend's weight.

Morgaine nodded, listening as Galahad counted to three in Sarmatian, before they lifted Gawain from the bed and half-carried, half-dragged his heavy body to the smaller room off the main infirmary. Laying him on the bed, Morgaine placed her hand behind his head to ease it down to the mattress. "Get a tarp from the supply room," she ordered sharply, without looking toward the door, but trusting inherently that she would obeyed.

Dagonet turned to look at Lucan, who nodded and ran from the room. Morgaine smiled, setting to the task of stripping Gawain to his skin tenderly. "He adores you," she stated, looking back at Dagonet quickly, before gesturing for Galahad to roll Gawain onto his side.

Dagonet spoke quietly, his voice rumbling loudly through the room. "I assure you, my lady, the feeling is mutual."

"Would you like to keep him for your son?" she asked rhetorically, stripping the cotton sheets from the bed around Gawain.

Tossing Galahad a towel, she set to work unwrapping the wound while Galahad attempted to preserve some modicum of his friend's modesty. Gawain's eyes slipped open for a second, causing Morgaine to smile and rest her hand to his cheek. "Easy, Gawain, you're safe. We moved you. You're going to feel very cold soon. It should help with your fever."

Gawain nodded, his head turning slowly, to look at Galahad who crouched on the other side of the bed. Galahad smiled at him, touching his face gently. "Rest easy, Gawain, you'll feel better soon."

Lucan returned with the tarp, handing it to Morgaine before Dagonet took his shoulders and turned him toward the door. "I'll join you in a second, Luc," Dagonet encouraged, before watching the tow-headed boy leave the room.

Morgaine smiled, slipping the tarp under Gawain's body. "Ready, baby?" she asked, looking down at him gently.

He gritted his teeth together, bracing himself noticeably before nodding. Galahad leaned against his chest, keeping him firmly against the bed with the other hand coming up to rest on his forehead in comfort as Morgaine started to pack the snow around Gawain's burning body and against the wound.

Gawain bucked upward with a cry at the chill, causing Galahad to tighten his grip. Gawain's eyes squeezed closed, his teeth starting to chatter. Morgaine continued to pack the snow, before wrapping the tarp up and over his chest, holding the snow in place. When she was done, Morgaine held the mug of sleeping draught to his lips. He wouldn't drink it, keeping his mouth firmly closed and glaring at her in defiance. "You force me to take drastic measures," Morgaine threatened in Sarmatian, pinching his nose shut.

It was a battle of wills; one which Morgaine was confident she'd win. Finally, his mouth opened as he gasped for air and Morgaine forced the liquid into his mouth. Clamping a hand over his mouth and nose, she forced him to swallow it so that he could breathe. Gasping and sputtering, he coughed long and hard, before slumping back against the bed, panting. "Witch….Lady."

"This wouldn't be the first time that I've heard that," she teased, smoothing his hair back before watching him slip into sleep. "All right; now the only thing to do now is to keep an eye on his temperature and keep packing him in snow. I'm going to need more snow as the stuff we have now melts."

Bors and Dagonet nodded. "We'll have the stable boys bring you some every hour. It'll be like a kind of holiday from their chores."

"Just make sure they remember to bring it to me, not just play in it." Morgaine muttered amusedly, before watching them go. Turning to Galahad, she questioned quickly, "I have to go check on the other two. Will you look after him?"

Galahad nodded, taking his best friend's hand in his own. She smiled at him, ruffling his curls gently, before returning to the main infirmary. She blinked once….twice, at the sight of Arthur sitting next to Lancelot's bed. "Arthur! What are you doing here?"


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Now for kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

The Lady Morgaine: I'm so happy to hear you say that you wouldn't mind. Most people have said that they don't. And HG says its sweet the way I've written it. I'm glad you like the way I've handled it. And I didn't think that Galahad would be that worried about Gawain and Morgaine's growing relationship. I mean, if you think about it, Gawain and Galahad are fiercely loyal to each other. For Gawain to love Morgaine means that there is someone who will protect her as Galahad would protect her, when Galahad cannot be there to protect her. And there will be Lucan/Dagonet in a couple scenes. Please be patient with me. And as to your review for Chapt. 33, I really wanted to humanize my characters. They don't like to kill, but they kill because if they don't, then they're dead. And the movie never really goes into the emotions these Knights, forced into a life of killing, have about what they do.

:op: Here's more for you, hon. I hope you enjoy.

Babak: I think that she's very lucky too! I mean, seriously, what woman wouldn't want two very handsome, very attentive men to love her, her whole life. And she's so lucky to have found these men so early (As Lancelot will remind Arthur in tomorrow's chapter, she's not quite 17 years old.)

ZELINIA: Here is the answer to your question! And I'm glad you've become inspired. Just email me back whenever you want.

HGandRHForever: Looking forward to reading your next review, sweetheart. Have a good time with this.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Turning in his chair, Arthur cocked a black eyebrow at his sister. "Well, hello to you, Sister," Arthur deadpanned, unable to resist teasing her.

Morgaine blushed, slightly. "I'm sorry. You don't usually come down here. Is there something wrong? Is my father okay?"

Arthur chuckled, getting up from his chair and taking her upper arms in his gentle grip. "Your father is fine. And there's nothing wrong, outside of this room, Rhiannon."

Morgaine glowed at the old nickname. Rhiannon was the Briton horse goddess, who had run from a king on horseback, stopping when he called for her to stop, and thus had made him fall in love with her. Finally, what he'd said registered. "What's wrong in this room?" she asked, glowering at her brother. "I'll have you know that I run a tight ship."

Arthur chuckled, "That's what I've been hearing."

Morgaine crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow at her brother. "All right then, _Brother_, if there's nothing wrong, why are you here?"

Arthur smiled, releasing her and gesturing to Lancelot, who was lying back in bed, eyes sparkling like river rocks with amusement. "I came to check on my Knights. I've been busy and unable to reassure myself of their care. How are they?"

"Lancelot is basically all healed up, he's just delaying in leaving the infirmary so that he doesn't have to go back to work. Tristan is healing, slowly but surely. He gets tired easy and he doesn't have his usual control, which makes him get really mad at me," she stopped, muttering under her breath, "as though it's all my fault that he almost got himself killed. Men!" she muttered, exasperated.

"And Gawain?" Arthur asked, chuckling, before turning to the empty bed where Gawain had lain. "Oh Sweet God, no!" he moaned.

Morgaine looked at him, confused. "What's wrong, Arthur? I can handle Gawain."

"Morgaine, what are you talking about? Where's Galahad? I must offer my condolences."

"On what?" she shrieked, throwing up her hands in anger.

"On the death of Gawain."

Morgaine blinked again, thrown off her axis for the second time that day. "What are you….?" Turning to the bed, she started to chuckle as she saw what Arthur saw. "No! Arthur, no. Gawain's fine. We moved him to a room by himself. We're going to try something different to try and bring down his fever. I didn't think you would want me to soak the infirmary floor, so we moved him into the adjoining room. He's still so hot, so we packed him in snow and put him to sleep. This is a last ditch effort, Arthur. Pray to your God for us all."

Arthur nodded, crossing himself quickly and fervently. Morgaine touched his head. "Since you're here, you could do me a favor."

"What favor is that, sister?"

"Take Lancelot for a walk. A lap around the basement and then bring him back."

Lancelot groaned exaggeratedly, before pulling the pillow over his head. "Are you kidding me?"

"Lance, you've been lazing long enough. If you're as healthy as you keep insisting that you are, there is no reason that you can't go for an easy walk around the infirmary floors."  
"This is so mean!" he whined, sounding like a little kid who hadn't gotten his way. "I can't get out of the bed," he insisted, to which Morgaine rolled her eyes, used to the antics of young men who were disgruntled about the healing process.

Nearly two and a half years ago, Galahad had been the same way.

Tipping the bed up onto its left side legs, she rolled Lancelot haphazardly to the floor with a soft thud, causing Arthur to smirk. Setting the bed back on all four legs again and bracing her hands on the mattress, Morgaine leaned over the bed and looked at Lancelot with a sly smirk, "Why, look at that, Lance, you're out of bed. Go. Now. Before you drive me crazy."

"You're an evil witch," Lancelot protested, glaring at her.

"You're the second to tell me so today," Morgaine replied sweetly before her eyes and voice hardened, "now move it."

Lancelot grumbled unhappily, accepting Arthur's arm and the persistent pull to his feet. Wrapping the blanket around his shivering shoulders, he leaned against Arthur as they left the infirmary. Morgaine only chuckled and approached where Tristan was sleeping soundly. Checking the bandages efficiently, she smiled at his progress, before returning to tend to Gawain.

Arthur looked at Lancelot, fighting to keep in his grin. "So… Morgaine's a witch, huh?"

"I'm telling you, Arthur, your sister is a slave driver. If you thought she was merciless on the battlefield, you should see her when she has complete control of the infirmary."

Arthur laughed. "You remind me of another Knight I know when you're sickly and infuriated with the healer. Galahad, fresh from Sarmatia? Remember, when he was a kid and he was so sick?"

Lancelot chuckled, remembering the illness in question. Galahad had been ten and unruly as hell. The healer had just about given up on him before Arthur had hogtied the sneezing, rambunctious child to the bed and forced a sleeping draught down his throat for the frazzled woman. Galahad had slept like an angel for a week, before waking up and lunging from his bed, the picture of health. He'd been so happy to be back on his horse, he'd completely forgotten curfew and ended up getting punished the very next morning. Which had the effect of keeping him off his horse for another week. "That boy hated to be sick, because it kept him motionless -which he hated-, but he hated being restricted from his horse more."

"The mark of a true Sarmatian, I'm afraid. Look at Morgaine."

"Your sister is a witch," Lancelot grumbled again, before staggering slightly on his shaky legs.

Arthur only laughed, catching him carefully and setting him back on his own two feet. Lancelot glared at Arthur, but there was no force behind it, causing Arthur to laugh again. "Come on, Lance. The sooner we finish this circuit around the floors, the sooner you can go back to bed."

"Why haven't you forced Galahad back to work yet?" Lancelot asked quietly, looking at Arthur curiously.

"With his best friend so ill, do you honestly think I could get any kind of work out of him at all? He exercises Dar and Brute, as well as Mary-Megan for Morgaine, and cleans out their stalls, before coming back to the infirmary to keep an eye on Gawain, and then traveling to the kitchens to take Archie off of Vanora's hand for a few minutes. I'm grateful to be at least getting the horses tended to. I don't want to push for much more."

"Do you think Gawain will pull through? Morgaine's been fussing over him avidly ever since his fever spiked."

"With both Morgaine **and Galahad** forbidding him from leaving them behind? I have every faith that he'll pull through fantastically." Arthur assured his best friend, catching Lancelot again as he slipped on some water on the floor. "Easy, Lance, despite your protests of health, you're still not up to full speed yet."

Lancelot scowled viciously at the blatant reminder, before asking, "And the rest?"


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Now for kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

The Lady Morgaine: Thank you for your kindly words. I'm glad you like where I went with this. I wanted them to be human, not just Knights.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Welcome to the Party! I hope it suits your liking. Lancelot has a mind of his own in this story, kinda like he has in the movie (I can't get him to write the way I wanted him to); but I'm glad you like him. I think he's a little bit of a drama queen, but he's fun to write this way. And in a couple chapters, there will be squishy Tristan updates. Soon! I promise!

Babak: I don't know! Will Gawain pull through? ;) Just have to keep reading a see!

HGandRHForever: You are loved sweetheart! And yes, there will be more Daddy Galahady, as well as some Lucan/Dagonet as well. And I thought that the story of Galahad was appropriate for the story. I added a kind of humor to an otherwise serious situation. And if your mom read it, you should have her review! That would be so cool. Wink! Wink! And the whole thing with "Morgaine is a witch"? I have brothers. And I know that they are as grumpy as hell when they're sick and they aren't getting their way. It just seemed to me, that Knights aren't that much different from brothers. I hope you like this chapter.

Natalie: Welcome back! I've missed you sweetie! Where have you been? I hope you like this. And I'm glad you see you back:)

And now, on with the show!

Chapter Thirty-Six

_"And everyone else?"_

"Fine. Bors got a nasty gash in his arm, but Morgaine stitched him up and sent him to Vanora, who smothered him with the maternal affection she usually only shows their bastards. Not to mention, Vanora's caring for her own children and Archie. Morgaine can't spare any time for the boy."

Lancelot shook his head slightly. "I don't believe that. Morgaine runs to feed him whenever she gets the chance. She usually leaves Galahad in charge of the infirmary. And Galahad runs to entertain the boy whenever Vanora sends word that he's restless. Guinevere doesn't come in any more. She can't handle the smell. There's something weird going on with that girl," Lancelot insisted, unable to reconcile the brash young warrior-princess from that final battle with the nauseous and sick-looking young woman he'd been seeing.

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed, resolving to keep a closer eye on his nephew. As well as his lover. "Lucan is just like Galahad when he was Lucan's age, running to and fro looking for adventure, and Dagonet has been keeping his hands full trying to keep him out of trouble. His arm is healing nicely, the break isn't even noticeable anymore. Morgaine did an excellent job at resetting his arm. You, Tristan and Gawain are healing here under Morgaine's excellent supervision, and Galahad is trying to make sure that he doesn't loose one of the only people who manage to keep him under control. And out of significant trouble."

Lancelot looked at him. "I wasn't aware anyone could 'manage' Galahad."

"You should watch the three of them sometime. There are only two people in this world that Galahad will listen to, and -more importantly- obey; Morgaine and Gawain. Gawain, because he's older and Galahad respects him. And Morgaine, because she doesn't give Galahad any other real choice; she rules that relationship with an iron fist. And not to forget one very important detail, of course, he's madly in love with her," the older Knight chuckled, glancing at his injured friend.

"Is it hard to remember that Morgaine is going to be 17 winters in a couple weeks?" Lancelot asked rhetorically, thinking about the sable-haired and strong-willed young woman that had taken the place of the little blond sister he had left behind in Sarmatia, and could barely remember. He highly doubted he was ever going back, especially since Arthur wasn't going to leave. Arthur would need him; just to make sure he didn't get himself killed.

"17 winters? Are you kidding? I forgot. She's always so grown up; I had myself convinced that she was Gawain's age (AN: In this story, Galahad is 22 and Gawain is 24), and at the very youngest,20 winters old." Arthur confessed, his voice suffused with shock and amazement.

"It's hard to remember how much younger than the rest of us she really is. She's so confident and sure of herself. Not to mention, she puts Galahad's maturity to shame."

Arthur retorted dryly, "Galahad has maturity? I'd like to know which Galahad you know. Because the only Galahad I know is prone to tempertantrums and getting his own way."

"Oh, you know. The tanner's son." Lancelot deadpanned.

Arthur fought to hold in a smile, before both Knights burst into laughter, causing Lancelot to double over and hold his shoulder as the shudders jarred it. "Stop!" he laughed, before breaking down into more laughter.

The two finally calmed at the sense of another person in the passage with them. Turning, they came face to face with a skeptical Morgaine. "I thought I said take him for a walk, Arthur. Not rip open his stitches in your games," she scolded, pulling Lancelot's fingers from the wound and examined it quickly and efficiently.

Lancelot grimaced at her quick and efficient probing, before sighing as she moved away. "You're fine," she reassured herself, before turning her back on them. Moving away, she stopped at the corner and looked back at them. "And be nice to Galahad, Lance, or I'll tell every single one of the Knights what scares you in the dark." And then she was gone.

Lancelot looked at Arthur. "See? She's cruel!"

"I think she's just making a point," Arthur pointed out, before glancing sideways at his best friend, "What does scare you in the dark?"

Lance glared, turning his back on his friend and staggering away. Arthur watched him for a moment, chuckling in amusement, before jogging lightly to catch up with Lancelot's unsteady stride. "Come on, we're almost at the end of the walk anyway. Let's get you back to the infirmary, before Morgaine makes good on her threat."

Lancelot looked positively horrified by the thought. "You don't think she'd actually do that, do you?"

"I don't know. You said yourself, Morgaine is a witch. And I know that Gawain agrees with you."

Lancelot's forehead burst into wrinkles, turning with Arthur and heading back to the infirmary. Morgaine was waiting for him, helping him back into bed and tucking him in gently. "Get some sleep, Lancelot. I'll wake you for supper."

Lancelot, not having realized how tired his walk with Arthur had made him, allowed Morgaine to push his eyes closed and slipped quietly into sleep. Morgaine turned to look at Arthur, smiling at him. "Gawain's sleeping, with Galahad about ready to follow him. Tristan's sedated and Lancelot just slipped away. You want to come to the kitchens with me? Vanora's been helping out up there and I miss my son."

Arthur nodded solemnly, offering his sister his arm. She looped her arm through his and left with him. He was quiet, pensive….and obviously troubled about something. She smiled at him. "What bothers you, brother?"


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: I got my USB Drive back. Thank you so much for your patience. And now for kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

HGandRHForever: The Nephew was Archie. Lucan is Morgaine's nephew because of her adoption by Merlin. You'll learn more about Lucan's parentage today. And today we learn about Guinevere's pregnancy as well. Although, Guinevere doesn't find out for another couple of chapters.

Woody101: Welcome to the party! I hope it suits your liking. Thank you for your sympathy about my drive. I'm so happy to have it back.

Chris: You amuse me dove.

Babak: We'll see about that Birthday celebration. I mean, we can't spoil the surprise, can we? ;)

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Yes, Arthur does know about the three of them. You'll see his humor about it later.

:op: If you love me, I love you back. Call me, we'll do lunch. ;)

Natalie: Glad to have you back! And I'm glad that you and your friend have reconciled. I patterned Arthur and Morgaine's relationship together after my relationship with my oldest brother, He Who Will Not Be Named. He's in the Navy and he's always so levelheaded, though from time to time he needs my support too.

Lady Morgaine: Yes, today Arthur learns about Guinevere's pregnancy. And I haven't decided what scares Lancelot in the dark. I think only Morgaine knows that (I'm hoping that she's willing to tell pretty soon!). ;)

TonyBA: You're my best friend. Review some more. And thank you for the compliment, Tony. I'll call you tonight.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you like my cliffy. I hope that as soon as you can you'll review again. I'm going to miss you sweetie!

Andromakhe: Where you been sweetheart? I've missed you.

To Meraculas, A Little Bit of No One, Shorty51, and anyone else I may have missed: I hope you're still enjoying this story, even if you can't always review. My prayers are with you always.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

He looked over at her askance. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to those of us who love you. What's wrong?"

"Well for starters, it's Guinevere. Lancelot mentioned that she's been acting different. And now that he mentions it, I've noticed the same. She hasn't been herself lately. What do you think?"

Unwilling to tip her hand quite yet, Morgaine replied with a not-so-subtle hint, "There's nothing wrong with her that nine months won't cure. And the second?"

Arthur didn't seem to notice the reference and continued in frustration, "Your father has been trying to talk me into becoming King. And taking Guinevere to wife."

Morgaine nodded, speaking quietly, reminding herself again that neither Arthur, Guinevere or Merlin knew the girl was pregnant. "I know that, Arthur. I've always known that. Guinevere was being groomed to be your wife when Merlin was still the enemy. Why do you think that Merlin made her father tell her stories about you? And, as bedtime stories? You're stalling, Arthur. Get to the real concern."

"I don't know if I can do this without Lancelot and the Knights. They are the only people on this Island, besides you and Vanora, that I have ever allowed myself to trust. I need them here, to tell me when I'm being stupid and when I'm getting ahead of myself and when I need to slow down."

Morgaine hummed low in her throat, before stopping. Arthur stopped with her, looking down at her in confusion. "What?" he asked at her pensive look.

"Arthur, the Knights made their choice when they came back. True, they might yet change their minds, highly unlikely but possible. But many will remain. I do know for a certainty that Gawain and Galahad will stay here, with me, because they know I will not leave your side. You are my brother. Britain is my home, and Merlin is my Dark Father; I will not leave this place and everything I love behind. Dagonet has nothing to go home to in Sarmatia, but Lucan is here. And Lucan so desperately wants to become a Knight. Bors will stay here, marry Vanora and have many more children, all the while being your strongest sword. He'll be governor of his own village, if he and Vanora keep on as they have been. I think he intends to repopulate the known world single-handedly.

"Lancelot is your best friend and your most trusted Knight, as well as your ablest. He will not leave if he thinks you need him. Not to mention, he says that he's got to stay to keep Galahad, Gawain and me alive and out of significant trouble. Tristan, well, he's debatable. He might become a mercenary somewhere, or he might stay here and become a part of the army you most certainly will require. Personally, I'd bank on the latter option. Tristan is nothing if not loyal." Her voice trailed off for a moment, before she spoke again with a wicked curve to her lips. "And should he decide to stay, it's about time the man got married. I have the perfect maid in mind for him. Her name is Isolde and she's a scout, tracker and warrior like him. They would well suit, I believe."

Arthur chuckled. "I don't think that Tristan will much like you meddling in his affairs."

"Oh posh. I won't be meddling; you're going to order it of him." Arthur stopped and stared, dread and fear lingering in his eyes. Morgaine could only chuckle at his shell-shocked look. "Think about it as an arranged marriage, if you must. It's high time all of your knights have gotten married. They're in their early and late twenties, plus Bors and Dagonet are in their early thirties. They're not going back to Sarmatia, so they no longer have the option of holding out for a Sarmatian wife. Besides me, there're no Sarmatian women to be found in Britain; and I'm already spoken for. Only Britons, or, slightly less favored, Romano-Briton women reside in Britain."

Arthur looked at Morgaine half horrified and half concerned. "And Gawain! What do I do about Gawain, when Lancelot demands to know why, and I can almost quote him, 'the bumbling blond' isn't being married off?"

"You'll tell him that Gawain is married. Gawain is mine! Mine! Just as Galahad is mine! No other woman will ever touch either of them again. And besides, you won't have to worry about Lancelot for awhile yet, Arthur. I haven't found a woman nearly stubborn or strong-willed enough to handle him yet; well none except for Guinevere, but she's in love with you. So, that throws a bucket of icy water over that particular fire. And you know Tristan. He will follow any order you give blindly. Isolde is young and beautiful, and she's patient with a kind heart. If anyone can make Tristan's icy heart melt, it'll be Isolde."

"So, I'm just supposed to order my Knights to get married? And no doubt have children, of course."

"Why not? Rome did it. They…and I use this word liberally… '**encouraged**' every generation of Knights before this one to get married and have lots of sons, so that those sons could be conscripted into the Roman cavalry, carrying on their bargain for one more generation." Morgaine paused, before speaking again, "And if Rome tries to take Archie away from me, Arthur, I swear on all three of their heads that I will start chopping at places. And they won't be pleasant places, let me assure you."

Arthur cringed slightly. He knew three things for sure about Morgaine; her family was her first and foremost concern, she wasn't a pushover in her infirmary nor did she make idle threats. "All three? I thought there were only two."

"Archie and Galahad and Gawain. Come on Arthur, keep up," she scolded fondly, rolling her eyes in mock-exasperation.

Arthur shrugged, continuing to follow her to the kitchen. "So Gawain's been added to the triumvirate?"

"Gawain's always been a member of the triumvirate. When I was at the Wall before, it was always Galahad, Gawain and me. If anything, Archie is the new addition. But that's all right, because his cherub cheeks and his father's green eyes make up for any bad feelings at the intrusion. All of us adore him; we're going to make him one of our gods before he's four years old, I'm sure of it."

Arthur shrugged hopelessly at his sister's back, before entering the kitchen. Vanora looked up at her, Archie screaming loudly in her arms. "Ah, Child, there ye are. Thank the Gods. Come, be a mother to your son."

Morgaine smiled, taking Archie from Vanora and cuddling him close to her. "Momma!" Archie cried, throwing himself closer to her. "Daddy? Papa?"

"Daddy" was Galahad, but "Papa" was Archie's term for Gawain. Despite everything the three could say, the child wouldn't call Gawain anything else. They had finally just decided to let him call Gawain what he would. "Daddy and Papa are sleeping, baby."

"Hungry Momma." Archie demanded, his tiny hands going to her bodice.

Morgaine laughed, and took her child's hands. Though the boy was a year old, she continued to breast feed him, along with solid foods. It gave her a chance to be close to her son. "All right then, darling," she chuckled, sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner, smiling up at Vanora as she draped a blanket over mother and child. Unlacing her tunic, she gave the boy her breast, watching him fondly as he ate voraciously.

Vanora chuckled, continuing what she had been doing. "He's definitely like his father that one; a complete and utter glutton."

"Which father?" Arthur asked, with a roll of his eyes.

Vanora shrugged. "I don't know, choose one. Both of those boys love their food."

Morgaine glared at her brother. "Be nice, Arthur. There's much that must be accomplished. Merlin sent me a message. The Saxons are gone. Those that survived the battle are being dispatched by Merlin's scouts as we speak."

Arthur nodded, sitting down as Vanora dropped a plate of meat and potatoes on the table. He looked up at her with a smile, to which she only ruffled his hair and turned away. He began to eat as Morgaine continued to feed her son. Smiling at the top of her son's head, she mused absently, "Arthur, do you remember your concern about Guinevere? What would you say if I told you that I knew that Guinevere was close to two months pregnant?"

Arthur choked, coughing on the food he had almost inhaled. His eyes were wide as he stared at Morgaine, before Vanora came over and landed a hefty blow to his back, dislodging whatever had remained stuck in his throat. He took a moment to compose himself, before roaring in surprise, "Who is what?"

"Guinevere…you know, the woman you call your lover…is pregnant, Arthur. Surely you knew?" she taunted, smiling at him amusedly. "I'd say almost six weeks along by now. She has all the symptoms: morning sickness; perpetual nausea; trouble eating; trouble sleeping; a heightened sense of smell; plus she's filling out and getting curvier as the days pass by, just like I did. I'd lay odds with Lancelot himself that the lass is pregnant, Arthur."

Arthur stared at his sister, asking dazedly, "What do I do now?"

Morgaine's feet worked automatically, pushing the chair to-and-fro, watching Arthur steadily. "Well, usually the first thing to do would be to marry the girl. You know, so that the child has a legitimate father. At least, that's what you'd do if you want to be the child's father."

"Of course I want to be the child's father. It is mine, right?"

"I'd say so; timed right, it's been about six and a half weeks since we arrived back at the Wall after the confrontation with the Saxons. So the child was probably conceived on one of the first nights you were together. And besides, Guinevere doesn't do men. In her opinion, they're too much hassle and they take up too much of her time, but for some reason, she seems to want to keep you around. If I didn't know any different -which I don't- I'd say she was in love with you. So, marry her."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not getting married without my Knights there. They are my dearest friends and most trusted companions. I can't imagine doing anything this important without them."

Morgaine nodded. "Well then, before that gets done, the first thing to do would be to build a more permanent residence. The Wall was great for its purpose, but it was designed to be a garrison….not a permanent living space."

"The Knights and I have lived in this tower for 15 years," Arthur protested, composing himself enough to begin eating again and taking a bite of the food in front of him.

"With the rare exceptions -namely, Bors and much more recently, Galahad-, said Knights have been sleeping in a dormitory together for the last 15 years. And I've seen your chambers, Arthur; how you managed to keep them so Spartan for so many years is ridiculous. It's time to build a true home for all of us. You can't expect us to have our families here, or your family either. There's hardly enough room for all of Bors' bastards, let alone the wives that will soon be found. And when the children are old enough to run around, there won't be enough room to let them play."

Arthur nodded, before sighing heavily. "What about Badon Hill?"

"You want to build your castle on the site of our greatest battle?" Morgaine questioned incredulously.

"It's also the site of our greatest victory. I think it would be fitting."

"Okay; fitting and haunted by the spirits of Saxon dead. Think of somewhere else, Arthur." Morgaine encouraged, looking back down at Archie's head. His curls ran like water through her fingers, reminding her of his father's own curls.

"I don't know, Morgaine. Where do you suggest?"

Morgaine was silent for a moment, before speaking softly, almost as though she was in a trance. "When I was a child, my father showed me a beautiful cliff overlooking all of Britain. He told me that to stand on the end of the cliff and watch the sun rise over the land of my birth was heaven. My father loved this land, and had planned to stay, had the Romans not taken him away. He called it Camelot."

"Camelot?"

"Yes. You could name your new palace after it. It's about a quarter days ride from the Wall. It's South of the Wall, as well, so that any 'reluctant' Woads would be hard pressed to attack it. Not to mention, with the river at the base of the hill and the cliff against the ocean to the back, it's naturally fortified."

Arthur nodded, spooning a mouthful of potatoes into his mouth and chewing silently. "Can you leave your patients for half a day?"

"Not right now, no, but maybe in a week. If Gawain's still fevered in a week, we should find him a plot in your little graveyard," she murmured, tears building in her eyes.

"Gawain's not going to die on you. He loves you. And he adores Archie. And both you and Galahad would kill him if he died."

"That might be overkill, brother. He'll already be dead; why bother with murdering a rotting corpse?"

"You know what I mean. He's strong and he's young. He's got both of you and Archie to come back to. He'll be all right." Arthur encouraged her, taking a bite. There was a silent pause as he chewed, but when he swallowed, he breathed in awe, "I'm going to be a father."

Morgaine smiled indulgently, hefting Archie up onto her shoulder and rubbing his back gently. Archie belched loudly, before subsiding sleepily against her shoulder. Morgaine smiled, still rubbing her son's back, as she smiled up at Vanora. "I'd say Gawain, what do you think?"

Vanora laughed outright, "Oh, absolutely."

Arthur's eyebrow cocked. "Huh?"

"Nothing, Arthur; it's something that only a woman would understand." Vanora assured him, patting the commander's arm tenderly, before clearing the used plates left by her earlier diners.

Arthur just shook his head, focusing on his meal, leaving the women laughing in amusement.

The next morning, they almost lost Gawain.


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Second chapter in one day because you are all dears and dolls for being so patient with me. Squishy Lucan/Dagonet alert!

Chapter Thirty-Eight

He'd been having problems breathing all night and around dawn, he took a breath and didn't expel it again. Chaos erupted. Trying to keep calm, the young healer sent a panicking Galahad for water, trying to get him out from underfoot, before focusing all of her attention on Gawain. It was a harrowing couple of minutes, but at last he breathed again. Morgaine sat back on her heels, with a great sigh of relief.

Morgaine had been teaching Lucan the Latin language when the blond Knight had stopped breathing. It had scared him deeply, though what frightened him most was seeing tears in his beloved aunt's eyes. He ached when she hurt. She had played with him as a child, and invented silent games to distract and entertain the boy when the Romans had gone raiding and ravaging through their village. He had remembered those games in Marius' dungeons, occupying himself with the quiet pastime to take himself away from everything he feared.

After Gawain was sleeping easily again, Morgaine used her wrist to push back a lank strand of hair and turned toward where she had left her nephew, only to find him absent. She found him ten minutes later in an abandoned corner of the infirmary. Pulling up her skirts, she crouched in front of him. Her eyes were kind as she touched his knee. "Lucan?" she asked quietly, worried about him.

Lucan looked up, seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks. "You were crying Aunt."

Morgaine nodded, brushing ineffectually at her tears. "Yes, I suppose I was." Holding out a hand, she helped the trembling child to his feet. "Walk with me for a moment. You're distressed. I think your lessons are done for the day. Maybe we'll find Dagonet."

Lucan nodded, gripping her hand tightly. Morgaine patted his hand gently with her fingers, before she turned to look at her husband. "I'm going to go and take a walk with Lucan, Gal. Are you going to be okay?" she asked quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping men.

Galahad looked from patient to patient, nodding once. "I'll be fine. Take your time," he assured her, with a small smile.

Morgaine nodded, blowing him a kiss, before leaving the infirmary with Lucan. They were silent as they climbed the steps up out of the basement and emerged into the sunlight. Finally, Morgaine looked down at her nephew. "What is it Lucan? You've seen men die. What scared you?"

Lucan nodded, looking at the ground as they walked, before looking up at her. "Why were you crying? You never cry."

Morgaine smiled, letting their hands swinging between them. "Gawain is very dear to my heart, Lucan. I love him very much. And to come so close to losing him….it pulls at my heartstrings."

Lucan nodded, letting his eyes wander the streets. After a moment, his whole countenance brightened and a large smile curved his lips. Morgaine knew, without even looking, that the boy had seen Dagonet. "Go on, Luc. I have to get back. Galahad is capable at watching….not tending."

Lucan nodded, letting his aunt's hand drop and rushing across the street. Morgaine stood, watching him to be sure he got to Dagonet safely. "Dag!" he cried happily, lunging around the milling crowd.

Dagonet turned from where he was talking with Bors, and allowed a rare smile to lift his lips. He dropped to one knee, his arms open to catch the boy as Lucan went hurtling into them. He stood, Lucan wrapped securely in his arms. Dagonet saw Morgaine over his shoulder and nodded solemnly. She smiled, and scooped up her skirts, hurrying back toward the infirmary and her patients.

Dagonet squeezed him close for a second more, before swinging the six year old up onto one shoulder. Lucan giggled, his eyes wide. Bors chuckled at his friend, clapping him on the arm. "I have my own boys to be looking after, Dag. I'll see you and Lucan later."

Dagonet nodded, turning away and heading for the open field, Lucan still on his shoulder. Lucan wiggled and Dagonet set him down, watching as the little boy's energy sent him hurtling through the tall grasses. Dagonet walked after him, a small smile lighting his face. Seeing the gentle giant walking slowly, Lucan came dashing back and grabbed his hand, pulling him along. "Come on, Da."

Dagonet's heart seized up. This boy he loved had called him "Da," just like a son would call a father. If the Saxons returned at that moment, Dagonet of Sarmatia would die a happy man.

Getting himself under control, Dagonet nodded. "All right, Luc. Lead on."

Lucan's eyes got wide with happiness and he raced ahead, the big man loping easily at his heels. At last, they stopped by a patch of juicy berries. After the little boy had filled Dagonet's leather cap with berries, he joined the Knight under the shade of a tree and the two ate the sweet treat together. Lucan was rolling a berry around between his hands when he looked at Dagonet solemnly. "I almost saw a man die today."

Dagonet immediately felt his heart seize up, but in a painful way this time. Gawain was the only man that was so close to death. Seeming to understand that the boy needed to talk about it, he asked quietly, "Which man?"

"The blond man that Aunt Morgaine always fusses over. She said she loves him."

"As she should. Your Aunt is a fine woman, Lucan. She genuinely cares for all of us. She saved our lives on that field and we'll be forever indebted to her for it."

Lucan popped the berry into his mouth and chewed quietly, before asking, "Dagonet, is it okay that I call you Da?"

Dagonet turned to look at the boy, curious. "Why do you ask that?"

Lucan replied soberly, "My dad was one of Merlin's sons. I barely remember him; he was killed when the Romans raided our village when I was three. Morgaine raised me for most of my life. I remember that I loved my father, but that's all."

Dagonet waited patiently for the boy to go on, feeling as though his heart would burst with the anticipation. Lucan looked up at him, with bright tearing eyes and a tremulous smile on his lips. "Can you be my father, since I don't have one?"

Dagonet's heart swelled and he pulled the boy close. Closing his eyes in happiness, he nodded against the boy's hair. "I would be honored, Lucan, to be your father. I have been meaning to talk to you about it. Morgaine asked me if I wanted to raise you as my son. I will ask her today if she would allow me to adopt you as my son. I want nothing more than that. "

Lucan's smile was wide and brilliant, as he threw his arms around his new father's shoulders. Dagonet crushed him close, tears of joy and love brimming in his eyes. "You are as dear to me, Lucan, as any child could be to its father," he confessed in a comforting whisper, still holding the boy close.

Still hugging his father tightly, the little boy's eyes filled with happy tears. At last, he had a real father and an extended family, comprised of the Knights. When Dagonet loosened his grip, Lucan situated himself in his father's lap and curled close, falling asleep in the gentle leviathan's arms. Dagonet lifted him close and carried him back to the Wall.

After he arrived home, he shifted the boy slightly and determined that the best thing to do would be to tell Morgaine. Going down the steps to the basement, he felt his heart soar higher with every stair. Stopping in the doorway of the infirmary, he waited for Morgaine to notice him. Sensing someone watching her, Morgaine looked up from re-bandaging the wound in Tristan's upper arm. She smiled at the sight presented there, returning her attention back to Tristan. Whispering softly in his ear, she touched his head gently as he nodded. His eyes closed and Morgaine rose to her feet, approaching Boy and Giant. Laying a tender hand on the child's back, she met Dagonet's eyes joyfully. "He's yours, Dag."

Dagonet grinned with relief. "Thank you, my Lady."

"Anything to make him happy, Dag. Anything at all." Morgaine assured him, her fingers tracing nonsensical designs over Lucan's shoulder blade for a moment, before returning to her patient.

Dagonet stood for another moment where he was, watching her tend to his friend, and then turned to the dormitories to set up a cot beside him….for his son.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

dw: Welcome to the Party! Thank you for the compliment. And I agree, Lucan and Dagonet do deserve to be a family. Thanx a bunch for reviewing.

Natalie: I'm so sorry! Tears were not the aim! Oh well. So….you liked it that much huh? ;)

HGandRHForever: How do I rate, huh? Three! Count them, THREE reviews in one day. Feels loved! Thank you for thinking it that special. And it made you cry too! I didn't mean to make you cry! Honest! And you sounded intelligent to me. I'm glad you like my Morgaine. She's so much fun to write. I love her to death. Aw, I love you sweetie! I can't say anything else. I love you man! And I loved those chocolate chip cybercookies. They were yummy! ;) And thank you for the compliment. Tristan's alive! He's gotta get married some time. shrugs

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. I'm happy for Lucan too! He has a Daddy! Yeah!

Meraculas: Good to have you back chick! I'm glad you liked this. Here's the next chapter. No more waiting.

:op: I am yours honey. Here's the next chapter.

Woody101: Thank you. And as to your question: Morgaine is in love with Gawain and Gawain is in love with her. Galahad knows and is okay with it. Like Lancelot said, "They're two sides of the same coin." I hope that helps clarify it.

Chris: You're a doll. And yes I know. Florence Nightingale Syndrome. ;)

Babak: I know exactly how you feel! I am so jealous of all those lucky women too! It's just not fair! And it's definitely too bad that we don't have Knights in this era. Although, if we do and I just don't know about it, I claim Galahad for myself. ;) And today we find out about poor Gawain's fate.

And so, without further ado….

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Four days passed and dawn of the fifth found Morgaine kneeling on the floor beside Gawain's bed, her head resting on the mattress beside their clasped hands and her eyes closed in restless slumber. Galahad slept in the chair in the corner, having intended to stay awake, but the exhaustion pulling him under inexorably, despite his valiant fight.

Gawain's head tossed slightly and his blue eyes fluttered open, staring at the room in confusion. His hand shifted slightly, waking Morgaine and bringing her head up to see what was wrong. "Gawain?" she questioned quietly, before smiling at the sight of clear, lucid blue eyes for the first time in nearly two weeks. "Gawain! How are you feeling, dove?" she inquired, tossing a rolled-up towel at Galahad -who jolted awake- before bending over Gawain's dazed form.

Gawain blinked, his mind starting to break free of its confusion as he saw Galahad's face join Morgaine's above him. "Gawain?" Galahad asked quietly, folding a cool palm over Gawain's forehead. Looking at Morgaine, he murmured quietly, "His fever's broken."

Morgaine nodded, reaching up to brush the dank blond hair from Gawain's face. "Honey? How do you feel? You have to tell me so that I can help, okay?"

"Th…." Gawain paused, startled at the croak that had come from his own throat. Screwing up his lips, he tried again, "Thir….thirsty."

"You want some water?" Morgaine asked, sending Galahad running for the jug of fresh water that Lucan had brought that morning, sitting by the door.

Gawain nodded, allowing Morgaine to lift his head slightly as Galahad came back with a glass of water. He drank slowly, keeping in mind that he hadn't eaten anything in awhile and the cramps that would surely come if he drank too fast, would be twice as bad as his thirst in the long run. Setting his head back on the pillows, he took both of their hands, squeezing their hands tightly. No matter how forcefully they kept it reigned in, Gawain could still sense the desperation lingering just under the calm façades of his lover and best friend. "How long was I out, Lady?"

"You spoke to us about two days ago, Gawain. Do you remember?" Morgaine encouraged, moving to examine the wound. Though still red around the edges, there was no heat and the pus was gone. She slumped backwards onto her heels gratefully, sending up a private prayer of thanksgiving to the Gods.

Gawain shook his head in denial of her question. "I don't remember, I'm sorry."

Morgaine shook her head, placing a gentle finger to his lips. "You ave nothing to be sorry about. Do you know where you are?"

Looking around, he replied questioningly, "Are we at the Wall?"

"Yes, Gawain, we're at the Wall. And you have nothing to be sorry about, old friend. We've been here since the battle was over. Lancelot is healed up; he left the infirmary two days ago. He's going about completing some light chores, I believe, even as we speak. Tristan is healing more slowly, but he continues to regain his strength. We've all been worried sick about you. Arthur has come down several times to check on you both." Galahad reassured him, his hand resting gently on Gawain's shoulder, keeping him firmly on the bed.

Morgaine spoke, laughing lightly through her tears. "Tristan's actually mostly healed now. The gashes have knitted well, and his emotional mask is once again fully operational. He's just enjoying the nursing of a young Woad woman by the name of Isolde, an old playmate of mine. Which is fine, because their wedding will be in about a week and a half. Arthur has ordered that the Knights take wives. Tristan has been ordered to take Isolde as his. He's using his convalescence to feel her out, I think."

Gawain looked startled at the "ordered to take wives" part of Morgaine's speech. "Wives? What does that mean?"

"You're not included, Gawain, you're already married. That is, if you still want to be?" Morgaine questioned, feeling her heart stutter in her chest at the idea of his confession being only fever-talk.

Gawain nodded, laying back on his pillows. "I do, I'm just…I'm sorry. I'm just tired. I'll be better soon."

"The fatigue is normal, Gawain. You've been sleeping for five days off and on. Give your body some time to get used to being awake and you won't be so tired anymore." Morgaine soothed, her hand rubbing gently over his collarbone, fingers dancing easily over the flesh. "Sleep, Gawain, and you'll feel better when you wake again."

Gawain nodded, pulling Morgaine down using the hand he held. Her free hand came up to touch his cheek, her fingertips caressing in tiny circles across his cheekbone, as she kissed his lips sweetly. "We'll be here, Gawain. I promise," she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

Gawain nodded slowly, his eyes slipping closed as Galahad kissed his friend's forehead. "Rest, my old friend." Galahad murmured, before watching as his oldest companion slipped into the oblivion of sleep.

Morgaine took Galahad's hand, dragging him into another small room next to Gawain's and smiling happily. "He's awake, Sarmatian."

Galahad laughed loudly, scooping her up around the waist and swinging her around and around in joy. Morgaine hugged his shoulders tightly, laughing with him. "Thank the gods. Thank you, Nazneen. You did just as much as the Gods."

Morgaine scowled, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Hold your tongue. Do you want them to take him away, just after they've given him back?"

"That would be cruel, and I don't believe that the gods are that vicious."

Morgaine nodded, "You're probably right. I just don't want to risk it. I almost lost him once. I just got him back. Like hell I'm going to loose him again." Wringing her hands together, she began to babble worriedly, "He's lost so much weight. The fever really drained him. I'm going to need to talk to Vanora about what he can eat to start filling him out again. It's not healthy for a man of his size to be so small. Plenty of broth, whatever vegetables are available, liquids of course…"

Galahad lost patience with her rambling, gripping her face firmly between the palms of his hands and pulling her up for a searing kiss. Her hands coming up to frame his face, Morgaine kissed him back, taking and offering what comfort she could with her lips, tongue and hands. "He's all right, Galahad. We're all going to be all right. He's pulled through the worst of it; there's nowhere else to go but up," she murmured against his lips.

Galahad nodded, before ravaging her mouth. She returned his passion with her own. Galahad dropped them both to the empty, narrow bed as they ripped at each other's clothing. There was nothing gentle or comforting about their joining. There was only passion, both wanting to be sure that the other was safe and in their arms.

An hour later, Morgaine slipped back into her gown, braiding her hair back out of her face deftly. Galahad rolled onto his side, head propped up with his hand to watch her for a moment, before he reached out and grabbed the train of her skirt, pulling her closer to the bed. Pushing the fabric up and away, he ran a gentle fingertip down the bruises dotting her inner thighs like blemishes on too ripe peaches. "Looking a little saddle sore, my love," he murmured lazily.

"I feel like I got beaten by a blunt object," she teased, her fingernails running over the blunt object in question.

Galahad laughed at the analogy, rolling his shoulders carefully. "Aye, well, my back stings like hell and you drew blood in at least three places."

She turned back from the mirror, laughing lightly. "Aye, well, bed a vixen."

Galahad laughed with her, before he mused, "I hope Gawain knows what he's getting himself into."

Morgaine shook her head. "I doubt it. I'm going to go check on him. I promised one of us would be there when he woke."

Galahad nodded, shifting his shoulders again, grimacing painfully. "All right. I think I might lie here for a moment. Try and regain my strength."

She nodded, kissing his lips lingeringly, before leaving the room. Isolde scrambled away from Tristan guiltily as the door creaked open. Isolde's cheeks flushed becomingly as Morgaine stepped through, looking rumpled and sleep-tossed. Morgaine watched the two of them for a moment, making her final evaluation of the pair.

Isolde's eyes were the color of honey with hair like freshly turned earth to match. Her lips were swollen and bruised, a firm testament to what had been happening before she'd interrupted them. She was small and lithe, with sharp eyes and quick reflexes. Tristan was dark all the way around, eyes and hair the same color, blacker than a moonless midnight. His eyes, even now, darted to and fro, trying not to miss anything. They were well matched, and she felt a small bauble of joy shine in her heart at the knowledge that one of the remaining Knights would be happy. Though less than put together, Morgaine was completely unruffled, smiling at them kindly before asking quietly, "How are you feeling, Tristan?"

"Better, thank you, my lady," he said, meeting Isolde's amber eyes out of the corner of his own ebony.

Morgaine smiled, looking back over her shoulder as she went into Gawain's room. "I'm glad to hear it, Tristan. And Tristan?" she asked, leaning back out of the door again. "If you're well enough to be exchanging….pleasantries, shall we say?...you are well enough to get out of my infirmary."

"Yes, my lady." Tristan said, surprising Morgaine slightly at the sight of a pale blush creeping across Tristan's cheeks.

"Why, Tristan, is that a blush?" she teased, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her.

Isolde held her hands over her burning cheeks, her eyes wide with horror. "I can't believe this. She caught us."

Tristan nodded, pulling her forward for another kiss. "She gave her permission. I just have to leave the infirmary."

Isolde looked at him concerned. "Do you think you're well enough to leave the infirmary? You don't think that you should stay under Morgaine's eyes for awhile longer?"

"I've already been here for almost four weeks. The sooner I'm back to earning my keep, the happier I will be."

Isolde nodded, standing and assisting Tristan from the bed. Together, the two managed to get him dressed into a pair of trousers, a shirt and a vest, all of which were typically black. Slipping under his arm, she looked up at him with a small smile, "Let's get you out of here and back to the dormitories with the rest of the Knights."

He nodded, walking along beside her, looking deceptively strong and in control. Only a very close observer would be able to see that he was leaning against her slightly. Isolde helped him to the dorms, before letting him go on alone from there. He graced her with a rare smile, making her blush rosily, before entering the crowded room. Dagonet was sitting on his bunk, Lucan handling a set of daggers quietly under Dagonet's closely observing eyes. Bors was sleeping in his cot, snoring drunkenly, as the commander's trusted lieutenant reenacted a book for Bors' bastards, as Vanora read aloud. Tristan cleared his throat, moving past a little boy who was sleeping in the doorway. "One of his sons is sleeping in the door."

"That would be Five," Dagonet replied, shifting the knife in Lucan's hands so he didn't hurt himself. "Did Morgaine release you finally?"

"Yes. She said I was well enough to go. I'm not allowed to go too fast or work too hard, but I am allowed to get out of that sickroom."

"And Gawain?" Lancelot asked, knowing that Arthur had been worrying nonstop about the blond Knight and by consequence, the two people who needed him most.

"His fever broke about an hour ago. He should be getting out of there before the end of the week."

Lancelot nodded, exchanging relieved smiles with the rest of the Knights. "Someone should tell Arthur," Dagonet remarked quietly, his eyes still fixed on Lucan.

Lancelot looked over at him, knowing that if Dagonet had two pairs of eyes, one pair would be firmly planted on his body. "I'll go tell him. Hey, Dag, has Arthur found you a wife yet?"

"Not yet. What about you?"

"No. But I'm going to be getting on a particular woman's good side, just in case." Lancelot remarked, his eyes narrowed in frustration.

"Which woman? Guinevere?" Tristan asked, his eyes impassive and voice as calm as always.

Lancelot shook his head, before speaking again, "No, Morgaine, the manipulative little witch."

Dagonet only shook his head ruefully, before returning his attention to Lucan. Without looking at Lancelot, he spoke, "You love her anyway."

Lancelot shrugged, replying, "Doesn't mean she has to know that," stretching widely and heading toward the door of the dormitory. "I'm going to go tell Arthur about Gawain!" he shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Evenstar-mor2004: Welcome to the Party! I hope you like it. I'm glad to hear that you don't have any complaints yet. I hope you continue to read and review. Tell me your name, and I'll make you Dagonet's wife. You have my word. Just email me. Thanks for the input.

Babak: Does that freak you out? Cause if it does, then I'll change it. But if not, then yes, Morgaine is going to marry them both. It's not a Christian ideal, but then again, they're not Christian. I couldn't bear for Gawain not to have any children of his own. And since Morgaine is obviously the jealous type, he's not going to be having any children with anyone who's not her. And you can have Lancelot. Just email me your name and I'll write you in. ;)

Natalie: Good to hear that they were only tears of joy. I hope you like this new chapter.

HGandRHForever: Thank you for that. I'm glad you think she's good at it. And yes, there will be more Tristan/Isolde as the story continues. You just have to keep reading and find out when.

Woody101: She loves Galahad for more than just the reason that he's the father of her son, but yeah, that's basically hitting the nail smack dab on the head. Hope you like this. ;)

KAfan: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you like my story. And I know it was a little strange, but thank you for agreeing with me that it makes sense. And you'll be seeing more of Morgaine's matchmaking skills as the story continues. We're not even close to being done yet, Ladies and Gentlemen. So stick around for the final acts. ;)

dw: Thank you. I implanted Isolde to make Tristan more human. It's good to know that you think it works. And we'll just have to see about Lancelot's wife. He's still a work in progress.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: No! Morgaine has her hands full with her two men. Lancelot is kinda like her big brother; loves her dearly, picks on her mercilessly. But yeah, if he did, she'd be in trouble. Two are okay, three, I start having scruples.

Lady Morgaine? Are you okay there? I miss you honey. I hope you're okay.

ZELINIA: I know you can't review sweetheart, but I wish you the best.

:op: And where are you lover? You said you love me? And even though my boyfriend is probably throwing a fit, I'll be yours forever. ;)

Chapter Forty

Arthur was sitting in council with Merlin in the Chamber of the Round Table discussing his upcoming coronation when Lancelot burst into the room. "Arthur!" he cried, skidding to a stop.

Arthur looked back at his long time friend. "Lancelot, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale….maybe you should go see Morgaine."

Lancelot balked at the suggestion, shaking his head in a vehement "no!" "I just got out from under the grip of the devil woman. I'm not going back if I don't have to."

Merlin chuckled, surprising Lancelot. "That sounds like my daughter. She always did have an ironclad grip on her infirmary. And you didn't disobey her in her own infirmary. You ended up in a lot more trouble than you would have been in just minding your own business."

Arthur chuckled, before speaking, "That sounds like the regular complaints that I'm getting; pushy, bossy, picky, argumentative. What can I help you with, Lance?"

"It's Gawain," he blurted, immediately wincing at how that sounded as Arthur's face fell.

Arthur was immediately on his feet, "Is he okay? Did he finally slip away from them?"

Lancelot shook his head, looking like a little boy when presented with a special present. "No, Arthur, his fever broke! He's back with us!"

Arthur lunged forward, grabbing his best friend's arms tightly between his hands. Lancelot fought to hold in a flinch, wondering why he'd never noticed the strength in those hands before. "Are you sure?"

"Morgaine released Tristan from the infirmary. He'd woken about an hour before."

Arthur turned to Merlin, just as the old man stood, swirling his cloak around him regally, his blue painted skin gleaming in the meager light. "You must go, of course, Arthur. We'll continue our discussion later."

Arthur nodded, grabbing Lancelot and pulling the baffled lieutenant along with him. "Come with me, Lance."

Lancelot nodded, following him quickly. As they arrived in the infirmary, Galahad and Morgaine were in the middle of transferring Gawain from his tiny room out of the way, each of them under an arm. Gawain's head lifted tiredly and he gave his commander a small, exhausted smile. "Hello, Arthur," he murmured, his voice breathy and tired.

Arthur moved forward, taking Gawain from Morgaine and helping Galahad lay him down. Morgaine's hand slipped under Gawain's head, easing its fall to its pillow. "How are you feeling, my love?" she asked quietly in Sarmatian, tucking him in as the two men backed away from the bed and joined Lancelot out of the way.

Gawain took her hand and smiled. "I'm a little hungry. Please, Lady?"

"Sure thing, dove. I'll leave you men to talk alone. But remember, my infirmary has ears in its walls and I can hear everything."

Gawain chuckled. "I almost believe that. You knew when I shifted in my bed, let alone what I said."

Morgaine smiled, kissing his forehead gently. Turning to Arthur, she leveled a finger at him. "You two will not tax him, do you understand? Galahad, you see to it."

Galahad nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Gawain clasped hands with him, squeezing tiredly in an attempt to reassure his longest companion. "I'm all right, Gal. I'm fine. Relax. Or else my Lady will be tempted to sedate you silly."

Galahad nodded with a wan smile. Morgaine smiled, squeezing Arthur's arm lightly, before leaving the infirmary. Arthur and Lancelot sat down on the beds beside them. "Are you okay, Gawain? Really?"

"I'm tired. But my Lady says that that's normal. The fatigue will begin to disappear as I get back into a normal sleep pattern."

"Have you got everything you need?"

"Yes, Arthur. Maybe you better relax, or Lady might sedate you instead!" Gawain teased, his lips curving into a tired smile.

Arthur laughed, his hands cupped around his knee as he leaned back. "I'm so stressed out with the aftermath of the battle, Guinevere and Merlin's insistence that I become King, that I might just ask her to do so. Just one night of undisturbed sleep is all I ask! Is that so hard to achieve!"

Galahad's hand was still loosely wrapped around Gawain's, watching Gawain's face for any signs that he was starting to wear out. Lancelot and Arthur asked Gawain questions, while Galahad relished the fact that his oldest friend was safe once again. Finally, Morgaine entered, a bowl of soup on a tray and Archie attached to her skirts. "All right, you've worn out my patient enough. Get thee hence," she ordered with a fond smile. Archie climbed onto the bed and wiggled back into "Daddy's" lap, giggling happily.

All four of the Knights smiled at the little boy, clasping hands with their comrades, before Arthur and Lancelot left the sickroom and went back to the Chamber of the Round Table. "He looks better." Arthur observed casually.

"Yes, he does look better, doesn't he?" Lancelot replied, the two disappearing into the Chamber.


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

:op: I forgive you lover. Cause I have to go away and I want you to forgive me too.

dw: Thank you. I think so too. And today there is even more squishy Mor/Gaw/Gal and Archie! ;) I hope you like it.

And as for the rest of you, I know I updated late, so I hope to be able and read your reviews soon.

As a sidenote, I am going to be out of town for Spring Break next week. So this will be my last post until probably next Thursday. Please forgive me. I will miss you all.

Chapter Forty-One

The next day, Morgaine brought Archie to the infirmary again. The little boy had been making Vanora pull her hair out as he screamed for his momma, papa and daddy. Immediately upon entering the sanatorium, Archie clapped his hands at the sight of Galahad. Sitting on Gawain's bed, he sat with his back toward the door while hiding Gawain's face from view with his form. But there was no one else in all of the fort with such an unruly mop of ebony curls. Even Lancelot's curls were usually in some semblance of order.

Usually.

"Daddy!" he squealed happily, leaning out of his mother's grip and trying to grab his father's shoulders.

Galahad turned, smiling happily at the child, bringing Gawain's face into view. "Hello Archie."

Archie leaned completely out of his mother's arms, throwing his arms around his father. Galahad pulled the wiggly little body close, burying his nose in the boy's curls. Morgaine smiled as he settled the boy on his knee, arms around his waist, the little boy giggling at the sight of Gawain's tired indigo eyes. "Papa!" he cried, his tiny hands reaching to rest on Gawain's leg.

The pillows from the five beds around Gawain had been confiscated and piled at the head of the bed. The effort of sitting up had obviously taken a bit out of him, based on the pallor of his lips. His face was even more pale than the pillows at his back, but he took great effort to smile shakily at the boy. "Hi Archie."

Archie's eyebrows scrunched and he lowered his voice, asking in a child's whisper, "Papa okay?"

Gawain shook his head. "Papa's tired, Archie."

Archie pulled away from his father and crawled across the bed, nestling close to Gawain's side under his left arm. "I make Papa feel better?" the child asked, looking up at Gawain with wide and innocent green eyes.

"Yes, baby, you make Papa feel better," the blonde Knight whispered, running his fingers through the ebony curls.

Archie nodded resolutely, burrowing close. Morgaine perched herself on the footboard of the bed, one arm coming to drape over Galahad's shoulder, her fingers curling around his stomach. "How are you feeling, honey?" Morgaine asked, smiling at the fair-haired young man kindly.

Gawain smiled brilliantly at the 16 year old woman-child, knowing that he couldn't fool her, but trying to anyway. "I'm not quite sure. Galahad has been telling me about what has been going on outside the infirmary walls."

Morgaine nodded, watching every shift, grimace and blink, seeing everything that he was trying to hide from her. His injured right arm was folded carefully across his stomach, immobile and throbbing. His eyes were tired, and it was obvious he was fighting his own body to stay awake. The pain was flowing like water through his veins, touching every nerve ending and inflaming every sense. Reaching over Galahad, she touched his calf. "Do you want anything, Gawain? Water? Poppy syrup?" she paused, before smiling slyly, hoping to make him smile, "Arsenic?"

Gawain chuckled, wincing slightly as the movement jarred his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind some water. But then I'm going to sleep."

Morgaine nodded, going to get the jug of water at the door, and then coming back. She poured a goblet of water for him, tipping it to his lips and letting him drink as much as he wanted. Settling back against the pillows, he took her hand tightly in his. She smiled at him, kissing his forehead as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. As she pulled backward, Galahad chuckled at the sight of his son slumbering peacefully at his side. Morgaine tucked the two boys into bed, kissing each of their heads, before pulling back again. "Only a couple more days, Galahad, and I'll be able to release him from my care. And when that day comes, I'll feel as though a large weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

Galahad smiled at her, pulling her into his lap and leaning back against the footboard. Morgaine snuggled back against him, one hand resting gently on Gawain's calf, Knight and Princess falling asleep where they sat, the four of them a complete family unit for the first time since Morgaine and Gawain had confessed their feelings for one another.

About three days later, Gawain entered the dormitories with Galahad keeping close. Dagonet looked up first, sparing the shuffling Knight a small smile, before looking back down at the boy he'd adopted as his son. Bors looked up with a huge grin. "You're back huh?"

Gawain nodded slowly, sitting down on his cot carefully, Galahad keeping a firm but gentle grip on his arm as he sat. Glaring at Galahad, he waved him away. "I'm tired, Galahad, not infirmed. Go away. Go make love to your wife or play with your son….or something."

Galahad smiled at Gawain's attempt to get rid of him, brushing an unruly strand of hair out of Gawain's face, before leaving. "I'm back, for awhile anyway." Gawain said, addressing Bors.

"Just for awhile?" Lancelot asked, cynically, teasing the younger Knight. "Do you intend to get injured anytime soon?"

"No, I'll be moving out of the dormitories."

"Are you kidding me? Arthur gave you your own room? How do you rate?" Lancelot roared, getting up to go and start a "heated debate" with Arthur about this particular development.

Gawain rolled his eyes and gestured for Bors to shove Lancelot back onto his cot, which the older man did. "Idiot. I'll be moving in with my Lady."

"Oh," Lancelot remarked, slouching back again. "How is that going to work?"

"She's getting a bigger bed." Gawain deadpanned, causing the other four Knights, even Tristan, to chuckle.

"That might be necessary. You tend to take up a lot of room. You're not exactly small."

Gawain chuckled. "Not to mention, Galahad crowds the bed. Lady complains about it all the time, usually with a smile or a mocking scowl."

"I'm surprised Morgaine hasn't kicked him out yet."

Gawain laughed. "She's threatened to. But everyone knows Lady wouldn't even entertain the thought. Archie's her baby, but Galahad is her lover. She caters to his every wish and whim."

"Works both ways you know. I'd rather she's here, to be honest. It's better than when she's not." Dagonet remarked, quietly. "There's less anger and more laughter."

Gawain nodded, remembering how silent and angry Galahad had been when Morgaine had been missing from the Wall and still with the Woads. There had been little room for joy among those Knights that had loved her. He laid back on the cot, closing his eyes quietly. The talking of his fellow Knights faded away and Gawain slept.


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: I'M BAAAAAAAAACK! Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Lilstrummrgrl527: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad that you like this story! And you've read it 30 times! I'm flattered! And you'll see how they can tell the difference. It's all about the looks. ;)

:op: Hey lover! I hope you'll be able to sleep now that I've updated this story. Let me know what you think.

Babak: Hey sweetie! I've missed you. And thanks for your name. It helped a lot. And you're entrance will be taking place in about three or four chapters. I hope you can wait that long.

Andromahke: I'm glad that made you laugh. There's more Archie/Galahad/Gawain in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. And I'm sorry that your computer wasn't working. I know how terrible that is.

Evenstar-mor2004: I had a lot of fun on Spring Break, even though it's not over yet. Could I get a description of you, too? Just your eyes, hair and approx. how tall you are? That would great. I appreciate your willingness to be apart of my story.

Natalie: I hope this works for you.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm sorry that you don't like this romance triangle. I didn't like the Guinevere/Arthur/Lancelot triangle for this story. I thought it was entirely too overplayed. So I thought I'd dabble in something else. If you want me to change something, I would be more than happy to. Just email me and I'll do what I can. Thanx for reading though.

dw: Thanx. I thought it was an appropriate way to explain their relationship without going into gory details.

Lady Morgaine: I hope you're okay. You haven't reviewed in awhile. I hope you still like this story.

ZELINIA: I love you sweetie. And I can't wait until you can review again. I think I've come up with a third chapter. I'll email it soon. God Bless You Honey!

And so, without further ado…..

Chapter Forty-Two

A couple days later, Gawain had moved into Morgaine and Galahad's new chamber. When she had first arrived at the Wall, there hadn't been any room and so she had been put into an emptied storage room two chambers down from Arthur. It was smaller than the rest of the chambers, but it suited her purposes, seeing as there was only her. There was now room at the Wall…and more than just her…. and so the family of four had been moved into the room across from Arthur's, which was bigger and could accommodate them easier.

That first night, Morgaine lay awake in their bed. She was propped up against the headboard, watching the embers of the once-roaring fire smolder in the fireplace. Looking down, she smiled at the sight that greeted her there.

Two heads rested against her ribs, one as dark as the other was fair. Equally vibrant eyes closed in sleep, they reminded her of children in many ways, tranquil and content with their new lot in life. Running her fingers through their hair, she reveled in these two men she loved. In many ways it was hard to tell them apart, although they had their nuances. The bigger of the two, Gawain always cradled her gently, as only big men could. He was thoughtful and tender most of the time, his fingers spread across her flesh like the hands of a child at its mother's breast, leaving her serene and loved. Galahad, the younger, was more impulsive and passionate in his way. Morgaine thrilled at his touch, always sensing the undercurrent of pain at her long absence, though they had been reunited for some time.

Galahad's eyes were always filled with temper and a rare passion for life's adventures, while Gawain seemed content to let life take him where it would. Arthur had been right, as Galahad usually -if not always- got his way about everything, while Gawain was content to let the Youngest take the lead. Both adored their son and took great pleasure in playing with him. She had no doubt that any new additions to their family -should there be any- would be loved just as much.

Closing her eyes, she slumped down into the bed and sighed, falling asleep contentedly for the first time since the battle. She had both of her Knights. What more could she ever ask for?

The next day signaled the beginning of a new life, in many ways. Gawain, though healthy once more, was still fighting the unbearable fatigue. He was propped up in bed, battling determinedly to stay awake. Galahad and Archie were keeping him company, the tiny boy giggling happily. Morgaine had ridden out to see Merlin for the day, leaving Galahad orders that Gawain was to rest. Galahad had quickly discovered that the only way to achieve that goal was to stay inside with him.

The day before, Galahad and Morgaine had come across a lone pup in the courtyard, starving and alone. Taking pity on the creature, they had taken it home to be Archie's playmate. Archie had named the cur Mordred, and no one could get him to change his mind. The two Knights were currently rolling a ball of rags across the floor, watching amusedly as both dog and boy raced after it, barking and laughing with delight.

Gawain's eyes blinked tiredly and they slipped closed for a moment, before flitting open again. He smiled slightly, knowing as he did that Galahad had seen the action and was now concerned that they were wearing him out. "I'm fine, Gal. I'm still tired, but I wouldn't miss a moment with Archie for anything," he reassured the younger of the two.

"You know, he's your son too. He does call you 'Papa'," Galahad reminded him, taking the ball from Mordred and tossing it against the wall again, both players racing for it enthusiastically.

Gawain nodded, "I know. But he is your son more than mine."

"Don't ever say that in front of Morgaine. She might be tempted to maim you bodily. Archie is yours, just as much as his is mine. And that's the end of it."

The argument was interrupted at the sound of a loud crash in Arthur's room across the hall. The two glanced at each other confused, before Galahad got up to see what was wrong. Gawain threw the covers back and stood as well, gripping the bed to steady himself for a moment. Archie came to Gawain's side. "Papa?"

"I'm okay, Archie; let's go with Daddy, okay?"

Archie nodded, slipping his hand into Gawain's and following Galahad from the room, Mordred on their heels. Galahad glowered slightly at the sight of Gawain out of bed, remarking, "Nazneen's going to kill me if she sees you out of bed," but pushed open Arthur's door anyway.

Guinevere and Arthur were in the room, shouting at each other. Guinevere snatched up an earthen bowl and threw it at Arthur's head, making it smash against the wall as Arthur just barely dodged out of the way. The two Knights glanced at each other curiously, Galahad lifting his son into his arms carefully to keep him out of the way.

Arthur hands were out, pleading with the irate woman to listen to him, "Morgaine said…."

"Morgaine said! What does she know? She's just some stupid girl!" Guinevere ranted, throwing a cup at him, it too smashing against the wall with a satisfying crash.

Soon the other Knights had joined Galahad and Gawain at the door. Dagonet had Lucan in his arms, both of the children staring wide eyed at the woman in the room. Their only contact with women was with Morgaine and Vanora, and they both knew that Morgaine adored the men she served with, her brother and mates most of all. Except this fury was not like Vanora either; usually when Vanora was trying to kill Bors, there was no real force behind it. Looking up at Dagonet, Lucan inquired, "Da? Is the Crazy Lady trying to kill Uncle Arthur?"

Dagonet watched the pair calmly, before speaking, "I guess we'll have to wait and see, Luc. I don't know."

Bors laughed lightly in response, "I'm willing to lay odds on the possibility that the little spitfire kills him. Who's in?"

Lancelot shook his head. "Nah, my money's on Arthur. He's older and more experienced at hand-to-hand fighting."

Galahad looked apologetic but nodded, "I have to go with Bors. Hell has no fury like that of a woman scorned. Ask Morgaine."

Just then a familiar voice outside their circle questioned, "Ask me what?"

They all turned, smiling at the sight of Morgaine in breeches and tunic, hands on hips and glowering at a sheepish Gawain. "What are you doing out of bed?" she demanded, coming to the blonde's side.

"There was a crash, Lady. We came to investigate," Gawain insisted, gesturing toward the room.

Morgaine cocked an eyebrow and pushed her way through. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Guinevere and Arthur still arguing fiercely. "What are they arguing about?" she asked, grabbing Mordred's rope collar as he attempted to go lick up the ale from the floor where it had flowed after the jug -in which it had been- had followed the same fate as the shattered bowl and goblet.

"We don't know. Arthur just said that you said something. We know as much as you do." Tristan remarked, watching the enraged girl in Arthur's rooms.

Guinevere screeched just then, causing all of them to return their attention to the fight in front of them, "There is no way in the seven hells that I'm pregnant!" (AN: Ten points to whoever can tell me what book this comes from and who wrote it. Winner gets bragging rights. :) )

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration, "If you're not pregnant, then tell me what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me! You just have to be a guy and think there's something wrong so that you can rescue me!" she screamed, throwing a writing tablet at him.

Arthur didn't move fast enough and the tablet gouged a gash across his forehead. Morgaine gasped, stepping forward, "Arthur!"

The two combatants turned to look at her, Guinevere flushing bright red at the sight of all the Knights standing in the doorway. Arthur smiled tightly at her. "Sister, could you please enlighten my fiancée about her condition?"

"Fiancée?" Morgaine asked with a small smile. "So you finally asked her?"

"That's what started this whole thing. I asked her to marry me. She asked me why. I told her that I loved her and I wanted our child to be legitimate."

Guinevere immediately went all gushy. "You love me?" she asked plaintively, obviously not having heard that tidbit in the accompanying furor about her pregnancy.

Arthur smiled at her gently, nodding bemusedly, "Yes, Guinevere, I love you. I want you to be my wife. I want you to be the mother of my children."

Guinevere blushed and lunged into his arms, the two kissing sweetly. Morgaine rolled her eyes, watching as Galahad pressed a hand over his son's eyes, shielding him from the passionate exchange. "Guinevere, you can maul my brother later. Currently, I would like to clean and stitch that gash so it doesn't fester."

The warrior woman looked at her bashfully, before questioning, "Am I really pregnant?"

"Yes, Guinevere, you are really pregnant." Morgaine agreed, smiling at her bemusedly. "Come on, Arthur."

Arthur kissed Guinevere once more and then followed Morgaine out into the hallway. Morgaine turned to Gawain and shook her finger under his nose. "And you're going back to bed. Now!"

"Yes Lady," Gawain muttered, shuffling back to his room and climbing back into bed.

Galahad chuckled at his best friend's glower and petulant pout as his arms crossed stubbornly across his chest. "Well, that was interesting," he remarked casually.

A smile twitched at the corner of Gawain's lips. Galahad grinned at him, laughing as Gawain burst into a full grin, chuckling along with the younger of the two. "That's an experience that I won't soon forget. I don't think Guinevere will ever live that down."

"Arthur neither." Galahad laughed, tossing the rag-ball at Mordred again, resuming their play as though nothing had interrupted them.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

:op: You can't have Gawain! Morgaine would be horrified! He's hers and she is the jealous kind remember. And I did have fun on my trip.

Natalie: I'm glad you can't stop laughing. That's what I wanted for this chapter.

dw: I have no doubt that Arthur will learn much in the coming years. He is, after all, only a man. ;) (No offense to any of my readers who may be male)

Babak: I understand. I would be anxiously waiting as well, if I was in your shoes. And please, chalk it up to Guinevere's hormones. But thank you for defending my main character. It means a lot to me that you like her so much. And today, comes a wedding. And babies are on the way. I promise. Big hug back. ;)

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I would love to read your story. I went to look for it, however, and I wasn't written by you. So, I will find it. Eventually. I promise. And I'm glad you liked this chapter. And here's the next.

Lady Morgaine: I hope you're okay.

ZELINIA: I love you sweetie. God Bless You Honey!

And so, without any further rambling from me…..

Chapter Forty-Three

On the day of the wedding, Morgaine was practically bouncing with energy. Gawain was seated in the armchair, with Archie knotting his hair from his place on Gawain's knee as Galahad leaned against the wall behind them. His arms were folded across his chest as he watched his wife pace with amusement. Finally, unable to restrain his humor anymore, he pushed away from the wall and stood directly in her path. Seeming to know that he was there, her body circumvented his own before continuing on. Waiting for her to come back, his hands lashed out and grabbed her arms tightly between them, hauling her pliant little body against his rock-hard torso.

Her eyes went wide and she gasped as her eyes flew to look at her captor. Catching her breath, she smiled and let her curves conform to his angles. "Nazneen," he chuckled, shaking her lightly, "slow down."

Gawain put in his two cents, trying to pull his hair from his son's hands. "Lady, you weren't even this anxious on the day of your own wedding."

Morgaine huffed, blowing a strand of raven hair from her eyes. "I'm sorry. But everything has to be perfect."

Galahad pulled her close, stroking his fingers up and down her arms to calm her, murmuring gentle nonsense in Sarmatian into her hair. He had often done the same to a skittish colt, his soothing voice and the rhythm of his hands calming them within seconds. Morgaine, as skittish now as some of those colts had been then, did the same. Soon, she was quiet and complacent in her husband's arms, her ear pressed to his chest and listening to the steady beating of his heart. Pulling away a bit, she scowled up at him fondly, "I hate it when you do that."

Galahad smiled at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I know."

Vanora threw open the door at that moment. "Quickly, Child, she's ready!"

Morgaine squealed like a schoolgirl and raced after the older woman. Galahad threw up his hands in mock-frustration. "All my hard work to calm her down and she's just as wild as before," he muttered to Gawain, who could only chuckle at him.

Coming to the doorway, Morgaine smiled indulgently at the bride standing there. She was clad in a gown of the purest white to be found, a white lace veil hiding most of her chocolate hair and her whiskey-colored eyes sparkling with excitement.

Curtsying to her three attendants, Isolde spoke, "This is the best day of my life."

Morgaine smiled. "A girl's wedding day usually is. You look absolutely gorgeous, Isolde. Tristan will be completely speechless."

"You're virgin, right gel?" Vanora asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Isolde blushed, nodding shyly. "There wasn't much time for intimate relationships in my work. If Morgaine hadn't betrothed me to Tristan, I might never have married."

The other three women -Morgaine, Vanora and Guinevere- exchanged mischievous grins and converged on the blushing bride. Together, they began to enlighten her about the joys of intimacy. Isolde's cheeks fairly burned by the time there was a knock at the door. The door pushed open a bit, and the girls squealed, shoving Isolde behind the curtains and out of sight. Dagonet's head popped in and he met Morgaine's eyes solemnly. "We're all ready out here. Whenever you're ready, my Lady."

Morgaine nodded, shooing him from the room again. "Send me Galahad. Or Arthur, either one of them will suit to escort the bride down the aisle."

Dagonet nodded, leaving the room again. Pulling Isolde out again, the women fussed for another few moments. Vanora smoothed down a placket of unruly silk, before asking curiously, "Why is it that all our boys call you 'my lady' but have always called me just plain 'Vanora'?"

Morgaine chuckled, reminding her quietly, "Arthur is my brother. When I was fourteen and surrounded by grown men? Arthur would have ripped out their tongue if they hadn't been completely respectful. Now, it's just habit for them. 'My lady' may as well be my name."

Vanora nodded solemnly as the door opened and Galahad came in. "It was decided that I would have the honor, since I know the girl." He stared at Isolde as she turned to face him. "Isolde? Is that you under all that?"

Isolde blushed. Though she knew that she had never had even a chance on his heart, Isolde had become good friends with the young Knight while the he and Morgaine were at the Woad Festival together so many years ago. They hadn't seen each other since then, but they were still as dear to each other's hearts as ever they had been. "What do you think, Gal? Is it too much?"

Galahad decided not to deign that question with an answer, and asked instead, "Why is it that Tristan is marrying this ravishing woman? She's too good for him, Nazneen." Galahad remarked, teasing the bride fondly.

"And I'm too good for you, Sarmatian; what's your point?" Morgaine taunted, her eyes widening in amusement.

Galahad saluted her with a grin, "Touché!"

Taking the young woman's hand, Galahad tucked it into the crook of his elbow. "Ready?" he questioned quietly.

"No, not really," she confessed, as the other women left the room.

"It'll be fine. Come on. No more stalling now. Let's get you married."

Isolde nodded resolutely and followed Galahad from the room. She was still fidgeting when the doors opened and she caught her first glimpse of Tristan. He was fidgeting just as much as she was, which seemed to settle her nerves some. Tristan had asked Arthur to stand up with him, and Arthur had agreed with startling enthusiasm. Reaching out, Arthur gripped Tristan's arm, and when Tristan looked back at him, he gestured toward the door. When he followed Arthur's gesture with his eyes, Tristan was caught completely unaware and he stared at this beautiful woman he was going to marry.

As his own personal Deity began to walk down the aisle on Galahad's arm, he began to reflect on his life since leaving Sarmatia. He had always been a loner, his talent at scouting and tracking separating him from his fellow Knights for long periods of time. But ever since Morgaine had rejoined them, he had started to converse and mingle among the other Knights. She was always engaging, her eyes filled with kindness and understanding, drawing the recluse inexorably into her circle. And when he was in, she made sure he stayed in. The one thing everyone -except Arthur and the Knights- had always looked down on him for -his Sarmatian blood- had only made her want to befriend him more. She shared the same blood as him, and she knew the feelings of isolation that came with that blood.

Since becoming a part of the whole, he had come to learn things about these men he'd called his friends, that he'd never known before. He had learned that Galahad was possessed of a quick wit and an easy laugh, not just a raging temper; Gawain was a natural with children, becoming as youthful as they when surrounded by their gentle innocence; Arthur's dry sense of humor played off Lancelot's sarcasm perfectly, providing everyone with plenty of entertainment; Bors was loud and boisterous, even without the help of ale, while his lover, Vanora, was not really as long-suffering as she pretended….rather she was deeply in love with him, and he with her; and Dagonet, as silent as a tomb and speaking only when he needed to, doted hopelessly on his newly adopted son, Lucan.

And now Morgaine had arranged for him to marry the goddess coming towards him. Arthur had been the one that had ordered Tristan to marry her, true, but Lancelot had been right….Morgaine was the woman behind the idea. He had never dreamed that he would fall in love, and especially not with a woman as sweetly naïve as Isolde, but he had fallen completely head over heels for the gentle tracker. Woad or not, he would go to the ends of the earth for her. He had more reason to be thankful for Morgaine's coming than he had ever realized before. He had made better friends with his comrades; he had learned **to** love and had fallen **in** love; and he knew that he would forever try to pay a debt that Morgaine would insist only existed within his own head.

Galahad and Isolde stopped at the base of the dais, Isolde's amber eyes locked on his. Galahad checked over his shoulder, getting permission from Morgaine with a small nod. Smiling, he bent and kissed her cheek. "Blessings on you both, Isolde," he murmured, taking her hand from the crook of his arm and placing it in Tristan's outstretched one. Wrapping his hands around the two hands, he smiled as he felt their hands mesh together under the subtle pressure of his grip.

Backing away, he moved to stand to Morgaine's right. Archie looked up at his father solemnly, hands tangled in Morgaine's sable strands. Galahad bent slightly to kiss the curve of his head, his eyes glowing with love for this boy who was his son. Archie gave his father a wide grin, before going back to playing with his mother's hair. Morgaine looked up at him, tilting her chin up for his doting kiss, her sigh muffled by his mouth. His arm snaked around her waist, his eyes meeting Gawain's over her head. Gawain smiled, lifting Morgaine's left hand to his lips, before the tiny family returned their attention to the front.

Merlin, as Isolde's village elder, was performing the ritual and he stretched his hands over their heads. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of the gods to join this man and this woman in the joyous rite of marriage." Turning to Tristan, he question, "Do you, Sir Tristan of Sarmatia, Man and Knight, take this woman to be your wife, no matter what shall befall you both? Do you take her burdens as your own, her tears as your own, her life as your own?"

Tristan nodded once sharply, speaking quietly but surely, "I do."

Merlin smiled at Isolde, remembering when she and Morgaine had been playmates as very young children, "Do you, Lady Isolde of the Woads, Woman and Warrior, take this man to be your husband, no matter what shall befall you both? Do you take his burdens as your own, his tears as your own, his life as your own?"

Tears were glistening as she nodded, "I do."

"Then, in the sight of those here, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Knight."

Tristan pulled Isolde up for a smoldering kiss, her moan cheering him on as her arms came up to wrap around her neck. The ladies cheered, happy for them, before Archie gave a sharp tug on Morgaine's hair and elicited a loud, "Ouch!"

Everyone whirled to stare and Isolde began to giggle, her lips still pressed against Tristan's. Pulling away from each other, they turned with everyone else to look at Morgaine. She was wrestling with her son, trying to get him to release her hair, causing everyone to laugh. Galahad gently tugged his wife's hair free from his son's grubby fingers and hefted the sturdy body onto his own hip. Kissing his wife's throbbing head, he turned back to look at the newlyweds. "Well then, that ended well!" Galahad remarked, grinning idiotically.

Morgaine slapped her husband's shoulder gently with her free hand, the other still rubbing her tender head, before speaking, "Best wishes to you both!"

The Knights converged on Tristan and the women surrounded Isolde, each giving their congratulations. The children were placed under the care of a trusted village-woman and after that, the party lasted long into the night, but as it neared the end, the women dragged Isolde from the tavern to prepare her for her wedding night. Tristan watched her go, before looking anxiously back at his friends. Galahad and Gawain were seated side by side, smiling at him behind their mugs. "Good luck tonight," Galahad chuckled, saluting him with his mug. "To Tristan! Newlywed!"

"To Tristan! Newlywed!" The others cried, taking up the toast as Tristan glared at Galahad, pacing back and forth in agitation. After what seemed like an eternity to the unusually restless scout, Morgaine arrived back at the tavern again. "Tristan, she's ready."

Tristan nodded helplessly, pausing and grabbing Bors' newly refilled mug of ale right from under his nose. "Hey! That's mine!" Bors shouted as Tristan drained the mug in one long swallow.

Setting down the mug, he seemed to visibly steel himself and then left the tavern. Morgaine approached her men and seated herself on Galahad's knee. "Well, that's it then," she sighed, resting her head on Galahad's shoulder, playing absently with the fingers of Gawain's strong left hand.

"For now," Arthur remarked, glancing at Lancelot over the rim of his mug. Lancelot and Dagonet were the only two Knights to remain unattached.

Morgaine grinned wickedly, with a small nod. "Indeed," she agreed.


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

:op: I'm glad you think so. I like Tristan and Isolde. They were the first Arthurian Myth I ever purchased, followed quickly by anything about Galahad. Galahad Groupie! Can't you tell? ;)

dw: I'm glad you love weddings. There are going to be three more before the story is done.

Petpoor: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you're a new fan. And I'm glad you like this story. And I agree, HG, when are you going to update Brothers in Arms? It's one of my favorite stories. Please? Because you love me?

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: No, unfortunately Lancelot is not the next to get married. We'll meet his bride soon however. I hope you can wait. And no, he's not happy about it. At ALL! ;)

Lilstrummrgrl527: I will try to mention Galahad's kilt. Soon. I promise. And you're right. Guinevere, totally would have won. "Hell has no fury like that of a woman scorned." giggle giggle

Evenstar-mor2004: Hey, thanks for the description. I appreciate it. And yes, I thought they needed a puppy.

Babak: Thank you for the compliment. I hope my wedding to Galahad is as beautiful. Sigh. Just Kidding! ;) And yeah, she's inexperienced. Probably a little nervewracking. And this chapter is in tribute to a suggestion you made nearly two weeks ago. I remembered. blush

HGandRHForever: Where have you been? I have missed your reviews like crazy! Oh well, I forgive you. Thank you! I love you too, man! And yes, Lancelot and Dagonet are going down! J/K. And yes, babies are on their way. I promise.

Lady Morgaine: I still hope you're okay. Miss you sweetie.

ZELINIA: I love you sweetie. God Bless You Honey!

And so, without any further rambling from me…..

Chapter Forty-Four

The remaining days leading up to Morgaine's seventeenth birthday passed quickly. The day of, Morgaine was herded out of the Wall on Mary-Megan, the gates shutting behind her with a loud, final-sounding bang. Cocking an eyebrow at the doors, she muttered, "That was strange. Well, more strange than usual." Shrugging, she whirled her mare toward her Dark Father's village.

Archie was perched on Galahad's knee as the Knights, Guinevere, Isolde, Jols and Vanora assembled in the Chamber of the Round Table. "What's going on, Arthur?" Bors demanded, taking a long swig of his ale.

"It's Morgaine's seventeenth birthday today." Galahad answered in Arthur's stead, watching his commander look around.

Arthur nodded in agreement. "It is. And I thought that it would be fitting to show her some gratitude for everything she's done for us."

"And what all does that entail?" he asked, looking interested.

"Well for starters, she saved the lives of Lancelot and Tristan during the final battle. She saved Galahad from poison before she even knew his name. She pulled Gawain back from the edge of fever. She attended Vanora as her midwife during the birth of your ninth child, I believe it was, Bors."

Gawain spoke up absently, "Tenth."

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, before continuing, "She birthed a child who is a ray of sunlight in this place we once thought of as a dreary Hell, and who everyone in this room spoils, even if they don't admit it openly. She brought me Guinevere. She married Isolde to Tristan, and in doing so, humanized him a little bit. She gave Dagonet a son. Anything else I'm forgetting?"

Galahad murmured softly, stroking his fingers through his son's hair. "She loved me and saved me from myself."

"She loved us all, despite our failings and her own misgivings," Gawain remarked quietly, his lips curling up in a small smile as Archie tossed the rag-ball to Mordred. The dog, sensing the solemn mood, raced silently after the ball and trotted back with it firmly between his jaws. Archie giggled and threw the ball again. Mordred seemed to give a long-suffering sigh and rushed off after the ball again.

"So, what are you suggesting?" Dagonet asked quietly, accepting the idea with little fuss.

"I'm suggesting we throw her a party. Not a big one, but something at least that says we were thinking of her and we wanted to celebrate this day with her. She's seventeen! Not many seventeen year olds are as accomplished as Morgaine is at her age; sister, daughter, mother, lover, wife, warrior, healer. And she does it all without breaking a sweat"

Bors laughed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm okay with a party, as long as there's lots of booze to go around."

All of the Knights laughed, watching as Bors took another long swig of his drink and nearly tipped backward. Lancelot spoke up. "Would it be okay to purchase or find something to give her? Galahad, seeing as you're her husband, this is a question for you."

Galahad looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. "I don't mind if you want to buy her something. Just, make sure its something practical. She hates frilly stuff; I can't even get away with buying her frilly stuff."

Lancelot nodded, leaning back in his chair. Arthur nodded, leaning forward. "Good, then we're agreed. The party will be tonight at sundown. Vanora?"

Vanora smiled graciously. "That Child is as dear to me as one of my own. You can count on me, Arthur."

Arthur nodded again with a gentle smile. "I knew I could. You're all dismissed. And don't be late."

The Knights stood, leaving the room. Tristan and Isolde were the first to disappear to the marketplace, their hands linking them together, before they were followed by the rest of the Knights. Only Arthur, Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot remained around the table, nursing their wine. Arthur leaned back in his chair, watching his sister's lovers silently. "So, what are you going to get her?" Lancelot inquired of her husband, tired of the silence.

Galahad chuckled, replying, "She's been complimenting the goldsmith on a pair of jeweled combs for weeks, as well as extolling their virtues to me. I think that's a pretty big hint that she wants them. I'm also going to get her a wedding ring, finally. The silversmith has some beautiful ones on display this week."

Gawain nodded and put in his own two cents. "I thought I'd get her a ring she could wear on her right hand, kind of reminding her that she's mine as well as Galahad's."

Arthur nodded, pushing against the wall. "Well, it sounds like we all have things to do."

The three Knights nodded, bowing slightly before leaving the room. Arthur sighed, thinking quietly, _"What is it that I could possibly get for her?"_ Suddenly, he was reminded of the perfect gift that he had gotten before the caravan had left for Rome. Arthur grinned and drained his goblet, before leaving the room as well.

When Morgaine arrived at the stables later that evening, she was surprised and a little suspicious to see both Galahad and Gawain waiting for her. A length of creamy pearl fabric was draped over Galahad's shoulder and Gawain carried her favorite set of ivory veils. "What is going on?" she asked quietly, dismounting from the mare and reaching to unsaddle her.

Gawain reached over and took the mare's bridle. "Leave Mary-Megan to Helios tonight, Lady."

Morgaine's eyes lunged toward her hairline, when the groom called Helios took Mary-Megan from Gawain as Galahad and Gawain himself each took an arm and dragged her into an empty stall. Together, the two got her out of her filthy trousers and tunic, and into the heavy sateen gown. Brushing out her braid, they pulled her hair back and pinned the veils into it, the black contrasting with the ivory sharply. Coming up behind her, Galahad used a scarf to cover her eyes. Morgaine yelped, surprised, and reached up to remove the obstructing scrap of fabric. Galahad's chuckles filled the stall as he took her hands, "Don't worry, Nazneen," he murmured, slipping a silver ring onto her wedding finger, before continuing, "We won't let anything happen to you. Come on."

Morgaine was smiling under the blindfold, letting each of them take a hand, Gawain on her left and Galahad on her right. They led her from the stables and through the courtyard. She could hear the buzz of excitement as they led her through the encampment. Finally, it was as though someone had snuffed out the sound like you snuffed out a candle. She heard only complete silence. "Galahad? Gawain? What's going on?"

Just then the cloth whipped off and all of those gathered shouted as one, "Surprise!"

Morgaine's eyes widened at the sight of the crude sign across the back of the tavern, "Happy 17th Birthday, Morgaine!"

Her hands came up to cover her trembling lips and she smiled tremulously at everyone there. "Thank you so much."

Archie and Lucan laughed happily, coming over to hug her tightly. Morgaine crouched and caught them both, squeezing the stuffing from them. Standing, she turned to face her other two hellions, eyes narrowed in question. "Did you two mastermind this?" she accused, mock-glaring at Galahad and Gawain.

They each shook their heads and turned to Arthur, pointing at him shamelessly. He spoke, coming to his sister's side and hugging her tightly. "I'll have you know, I thought it up entirely on my own."

Morgaine hugged her brother, laughing happily. "Thank you, Arthur, it's wonderful."

"Come on. We have gifts and after that, Vanora has fixed up a feast for us all."

Morgaine laughed, her voice ringing like church bells through the enclosed area. Lucan and Archie each took a hand and pulled her along to a table heavily laden with gifts. Dagonet pulled out a chair and smiled sheepishly as he held it for her so she could sit. Archie grabbed a present from the stack first. "Me first! Me first!" he cried, dashing for his mother.

"All right, pippin, you first," the joyful mother assured her son, pulling him and his gift into her lap. "What is it?"

The little boy blushed and buried his face in her chest as she began to pull off the brown paper. Inside was a drawing, obviously sketched with the sharpened end of a charred stick. "What's this, pumpkin?"

"That's you and me and Daddy and Papa," Archie declared proudly, pointing at each stick figure in turn. "And that's Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lancelot and Uncle Dagonet and Uncle Bors and Uncle Tristan and Aunt Guinevere and Aunt Isolde."

Morgaine chuckled at the realization that every stick figure looked exactly the same, except three of them had long squiggly lines coming from their heads that his adoring mother could only guess was hair. She hugged him tightly, kissing his temple, "It's beautiful baby. Thank you."

Archie beamed, before Lucan handed his gift to her next. Inside was a new quiver for her arrows, fashioned with thick leather and decorated with brass rivets. It could be worn across her back or fastened to her belt. She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Lucan, that's very thoughtful of you. I've been needing a new one."

"I know," he confessed, blushing shyly.

Morgaine ruffled his hair and tenderly set the quiver on the table at her left. The gifts went like so -a new dagger from Tristan, a bouquet of wildflowers from Isolde and Guinevere, a hand-knit shawl from Vanora, a bottle of wine from Bors- until at last only Arthur, Galahad, Gawain, Jols and Lancelot left. Jols blushed as he carried a large chair out from the storage room. Morgaine's eyes widened at the sight of it. "It's a rocking chair!" she gasped in shock.

"Yes. I made it for you. I meant to give it to you earlier, but this was the first time that presented itself," he insisted, blushing at her joy.

"Oh, Jols, it's beautiful. You're very talented. This must have taken you forever," she gushed, her hands running like water over the polished wood.

Jols shook his head. "I don't mind. It was worth it to see the pleasure on your face."

Looking back at Galahad, she inquired, "May I?"

Galahad nodded once, before claiming, "Only a small one."

Morgaine nodded with a smile and went up on tiptoes, kissing the squire's cheek gently. "Thank you, Jols, I love it."

Jols blushed even more fiercely and backed away shyly. Lancelot went next. "I couldn't think of anything for you at first, but then I thought about it. And this seemed to be the best thing I could offer you."

Handing her the package, he waited with baited breath until the brown paper fell open. Inside were his twin blades, securely in their matching scabbards. Her eyes widened and she lifted one reverently. "Lance…" she breathed in awe.

"Don't say it. I've been needing new ones; I got these when I was younger and smaller. And I know how much you like these blades…. they're perfectly weighted for a girl your size. I couldn't think of anything else better to give you."

"Lance, this is perfect. Thank you."

Lancelot beamed much like Archie had done as Arthur leaned forward and set a piece of paper reverently on the table next to her. Morgaine looked at him. "What is this?"

"I had Alecto draw it up before he left. I had forgotten about it, what with everything that was going on, the Saxons, the aftermath, Gawain, everything."

Morgaine took it, easily able to read the Latin written in bold cursive. Her eyes went wide and she nearly dropped the paper, looking up at Arthur with glistening eyes. "Do you mean this?"

Arthur nodded once, catching her as she lunged into his arms. Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other, but waited impatiently for Morgaine to collect herself and pull away from Arthur. "What is it, Lady?"

"It's a certificate that says that I am Arthur's legal sister, in the eyes of Rome." Wiping her eyes of their joyous tears, she continued, "He adopted me. I'm a Castus."

Galahad and Gawain's eyes widened at the news and both whirled to face Arthur. "I thought it would be best. If something ever happens to me, I've arranged for Morgaine and Archie to inherit something of my estate. Archie will be my Heir, until Guinevere and I have a son. It never hurts to be safe."

Galahad nodded, clasping Arthur's arm firmly. "Thank you; I think this means more to her than anything else anyone could have given."

Arthur nodded once, before stepping back. Gawain went next, seeming to understand that as her husband, Galahad should be last to present his gift. "Here. I hope you like it."

Still struggling with her emotions, she took the tiny package and unwrapped it. She burst into fresh tears at the intricate silver ring that sat in the middle of a ball of cotton. Slipping it onto the ring finger of her right hand, she smiled up at Gawain gratefully. "Thank you. Now, you really are mine," she murmured, accepting his tender kiss sweetly.

Gawain nodded with a soft blush, stepping back as Galahad came up behind his wife. He didn't hand her his gift, instead he slipped the ornate combs into her hair, twisting the sable tresses off her neck beautifully, the moonstones and sapphires flashing even in the meager light of the tavern. She smiled, tipping her head to the side as he kissed her neck gently. Smiling at all of them, she allowed herself to be overcome with emotion. "Thank you so much, everyone. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Arthur smiled, as Tristan spoke, "We just wanted to thank you somehow for everything you've done for us."

Morgaine nodded, tears building again. "You're welcome," she replied, before Vanora scooped the girl up and squeezed tightly. "No more tears dearie. Come on, there's food to be eaten and then there's dancing and singing and laughing. It'll be a birthday unlike any you'll ever remember."

Morgaine smiled, hugging the elder woman as the redhead pulled her deeper into the tavern, where all kinds of delectable sweetmeats were laid out for their eating pleasure. The rest of the night passed in a haze of laughter and happiness, making it the most memorable of nights.


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Chris: You and I need to talk! And thank you for the advice. I goofed! ;)

Evenstar-mor2004: Thanks. And yes, Lancelot is going to marry. I can't wait to introduce you to his bride. We meet her tomorrow. Giggle Giggle.

HGandRHForever: I hope this makes your schoolday that much better. And there will more Lucan/Dagonet, more matchmaking Morgaine and more babies. Just not yet, I'm afraid. Today, we reach the end of the movie and tomorrow we move into the domain where everything belongs to me! Well, plotwise. I wish Gawain and Galahad belonged to me. That would be heavenly. Sigh Okay, where was I? Drifted off for a moment there. I'm okay now! ;)

Heidi: Welcome to the Party! I hope you like this latest chapter. And I'm glad you're enjoying the show.

Chris! I'll deal with you later!

:op: Glad to have been of Service sweetheart. I hope you like the new chapter.

Andromahke: Welcome back! That's okay! I know how it feels to have your internet be a brat to you. Yeah, I thought that the ring would be a good idea, since Gawain is her husband as well. Those blades were too small for him anymore and it just seemed that a pair of perfectly good swords should go to an accomplished swordsman, or woman as the case may be, who is small enough to use them. And thanks for liking Archie. I thought he was adorable in this chapter. He wrote himself, I'll admit, I had no hand in him at all this time.

Natalie: Yes he is a sweetheart. And I don't think enough stories, or even the movie accurately portray that. I hope you like this chapter.

lilstrummrgrl527: Thank you. And he should sound proud of himself. He did something good. Don't you think? ;) And Morgaine deserved it. It was all Babak's idea!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Don't cry! I hate it when I make people cry! Although, if it's a good crying, go ahead and cry.

Babak: Of course I remembered. It was a good idea. And yes, there will be trial and tribulation, but there is hope! Eureka! (Don't ask. Weird mood. ;) ) Woohoo!

ZELINIA: You can review again! Yeah! I can't wait to hear all about your reviews again.

Lady Morgaine: I still hope you're okay. God Bless.

Chapter Forty-Five

Weeks later, a now seventeen year old Morgaine stood with Gawain and Galahad on Camelot Hill, Mordred panting obediently at their feet, smiling at the sound of the crashing of waves against the bottom of the cliff. Seated on the curve of her hip was her son, their darling Archie, dressed as richly as a little prince in a soft blue tunic, belted in gold with a pair of grey leggings. He would be Arthur's Heir, until King and Queen bore a son for Britain. Morgaine herself was dressed in a long flowing gown of blue Roman silk with a veil of blue silk over her midnight hair.

Morgaine had spent hours brushing out the tangles in both Galahad and Gawain's hair, mending their formal clothes and polishing the gleaming rivets on their gauntlets and belts. Galahad stood in a pair of black trousers with a black long-sleeved and v-necked shirt over a black turtleneck, while a still slightly underweight Gawain wore a forest green shirt with a darkly tanned vest over black trousers. Both looked very handsome, swords hanging at their sides, each with the hilt of a knife protruding from the tops of their boots. Arthur had had two identical blades made specially, giving one to Galahad and one to Gawain, upon which both had made a solemn oath to protect and honor Morgaine all the days of their lives. She had been very proud of them both, and still was, some two weeks later.

Dagonet had Lucan backed up against his legs with his hands resting gently on his shoulders, both standing quiet and calm. Bors was holding his infant son, Vanora to his right and their bastards scattered quietly around them. Tristan was standing with Isolde, the flash of their polished wedding rings and the casual display of joined hands the only sign that they were together. Lancelot was standing to the right of her brother, protecting and guiding him as he had always done. She was so proud of all of them, her self-made family.

But the one that she was most proud of on this day, his wedding day, was Arthur. He stood on the dais with a pregnant -and showing- Guinevere, both of them smiling happily as they faced the ocean and each other. The events surrounding Guinevere's discovery of her pregnancy were still the cause for hilarity among the Knights; the whole Wall well remembered the screaming match that had taken place between the future King and Queen, which could be heard everywhere throughout the garrison. Whenever someone teased her about it, Guinevere's cheeks flamed brilliant red and she glowered at them, threatening all kinds of bodily harm amidst their laughter.

Guinevere herself was dressed in a gown resplendent of Morgaine's own gown, only white instead of blue. Isolde, Vanora and Morgaine, self-appointed as her lady's maids for the event, had spent hours on her hair and face, making her the most beautiful woman there. Lancelot and the Knights had attended Arthur, drinking ale and laughing together to ease any anxiety about what was about to occur. To his wedding Arthur had decided to wear the Roman centurion armor he'd worn the whole time he'd been in Britain.

The ceremony was beautiful. At the end, they sipped from the same bowl and Merlin spoke, his teeth flashing white in his otherwise blue face. "Arthur. Guinevere. Our people are one. As are you."

There was a cry of celebration, and Bors looked at his son ruefully. "I guess now I am going to have to marry your mother."

Vanora exchanged exasperated looks with Morgaine, before taking her son back with a sharp retort, "Who said I'd have you?"

Bors seemed to look happier at that declaration. Merlin called out "King Arthur!" before kneeling.

The rest of the congregation knelt, including the Knights and Morgaine, effectively proclaiming their allegiance to Arthur. Guinevere and Arthur turned to face the crowd and held up his sword. "Let every man, woman and child bear witness that from this day, all Britons will be united in one common cause," Arthur called out, determined to have the free land he and his mentor, Pelagius, had always dreamed of.

The crowd surged to their feet, chanting Arthur's name. Bors drew his sword and shouted, "Artorius!" before holding the blade across his heart.

The remaining Knights followed his example and the instant the blades were in the air, the crowd only got louder. Morgaine's smile grew as Arthur kissed Guinevere again under the arch of his blade, while the Knights looked around at the screaming crowd in surprise and more than a little awe. Turning, Arthur brought down his blade and a fleet of archers released hundreds of flaming arrows off the cliff and toward the ocean. Morgaine stepped back between the two Knights she laid claim to, content, as Galahad's left arm came around her waist. His lips buried in her hair as his sword remained up in tribute to Arthur and the new Briton regime. Morgaine rested her head against Gawain's shoulder, his head turning to kiss her brow. Smiling in true happiness, Morgaine looked down at her son. "Archie, this is your land now. You will be free."

Galahad and Gawain met eyes over her head, nodding resolutely. Nothing would ever harm the two people they loved most, not while they could yet breathe. She, whatever children they sired with her, their King & Queen and this land that they now called their own would be safe. Even if they had to shed more blood to guarantee it.

After the ceremony, Morgaine stood on the edge of the cliff, her eyes closed in remembrance of her father. Archie slept peacefully in her arms. "Rest in peace, Father. The land you loved is safe. I will protect it and the men I love will protect it. May you and mother rest in peace. Why, you might even come back as a great horse for one of my sons to learn to ride. I love you. Until we meet again."

Arthur came up behind her, kissing her temple gently. "Are you happy, Sister?"

Looking over her shoulder to where Gawain and Galahad talked with the other Knights, Morgaine smiled. Looking up at Arthur, she nodded, "Yes, brother, I am very happy." Hitching her son up higher up on her hip, she glanced at him sidelong. "You will make a great king, Arthur."

"Thank you, sister. Sometimes, it's good to hear that. I myself am as yet unsure." Arthur stood silently for a moment, respecting her silence as she gazed out across the roiling waves.

"You know what I like about the ocean, Arthur?"

Arthur, thrown off slightly by the suddenly shift in topic, shook his head. "No; what do you like about the ocean, Rhiannon?"

"The ocean doesn't try and bullshit you. It gives it to you straight. What are you chewing in your head?"

Arthur gave her a small smile. He had forgotten; he was an open book to his sister. "You would make an excellent advisor."

Morgaine smiled and shrugged. "Sure why not? It's the least that I can do. I mean, I do have to make sure you boys don't get killed."

Arthur laughed, wrapping a gentle arm around her waist to lead her back to the circle of Knights. She was immediately tucked into her place between Galahad and Gawain, Gawain's arm around her shoulders and Galahad's around her waist. "Love you," she whispered.

"And we love you," they replied together, each kissing her quickly, before continuing with their conversation.


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Babak: Or Should I say Babaksmiles? Welcome on board the lunacy train. J/K. Thanks for liking this chapter. I thought that they were a little too distant too. But they're getting married! Who wants a partner who can't stand the sight of each other? ;) Today, you arrive! I'll leave it at that. Don't feel too disappointed at the beginning. You're crowning glory comes later.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Thank you!

Andromahke: Today, you meet Lancelot's bride! She's….well, she's Tristan's sister, let's put it that way. Thank you so much for all your sweet compliments! I enjoy reading them. And I'm glad you like my Arthur/Guinevere couple. I enjoy writing them. I enjoy writing everyone. They're so much fun.

Evenstar-mor2004: Hey, I know how that goes. My cousin's wedding shouldn't have been called a wedding. It should have been called "Chaos and Catastrophe" because that's just about how well things went.

Magpie-Detonation: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you got over your apprehension and read this story. Suggest it to other and encourage others too, okay? I'm greedy when it comes to people telling me how great I am. ;) Just kidding. No, really, please keep reading and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And I feel your pain about the Writer's Block. Not fun. Not fun at all.

:op: I love you too! Thank you!

lilstrummrgrl527: I don't want you to cry. I hate it when people cry. Here Hands over a large box of cyber chocolate cookies I hope these make you feel better. And yes, Gawain's hair is long. Very long and, if you watched the movie, and absolutely chaotic mess.

ZELINIA: I'm sorry you think it's creepy! I'll stop if you want me to. I can write you a separate version. I don't care. I'll email it to you! Please don't hate me! Wah! Hiccup I took your idea for Gaheris. He's still a work in progress, but I have him! He's in the chapter. He arrives from Sarmatia TODAY! Yeah!

Natalie: I hope you continue to like this story. And that you enjoy this chapter.

HGandRHForever: blink blink Where is you? Are you there? Do you no longer love me? I think I'm going to cry. Sniffle sniffle Review me soon! Please! Miss you much! ;)

Lady Morgaine: I still hope you're okay. God Bless.

Chapter Forty-Six

Construction on the palace at Camelot had been the first order of business, even before the coronation of the King and Queen. It was about three weeks after the coronation that the palace was completed enough for the families to move into. Each Knight had a wing in the palace, which housed them, their wives and any children that would be born. Only Lancelot lived alone, though various women frequented his quarters regularly. Finding him a wife -or at least a wife that would maim him bodily the second he made eyes at a barmaid- was proving difficult for the Princess and Court Advisor of Camelot.

Immediately after they moved in, Tristan and Isolde took their honeymoon. They returned to Sarmatia and were away for nearly five months. When they returned, they had brought some people back with them. Not only was Isolde newly pregnant, but they also arrived with two people; Tristan's just slightly younger sister, Bergisa, and Gawain's 14 year-old brother, Gaheris.

Bergisa was the only one remaining of Tristan's family, their parents having died some years earlier. While her brother was as dark as midnight, she was as dusky as sunset with light brown hair and eyes the color of golden honey. She was short -barely over five feet tall- and completely dwarfed by all the Knights at the Castle. Even the women were taller than her. The only exception was Morgaine, who, at three inches under five feet, was the shortest adult in the palace. The Dark Child liked the girl; she was young and fiery, quick to fury with eyes as sharp as her brother's and a tongue as sharp as a bullwhip when you angered her. She and Lancelot, though never formally introduced, carried some deep-seated animosity for each other and it was amusing to watch them bicker over little inconsequential things. It amused the whole Wall immensely. Morgaine and Bergisa became fast friends, spending as much time together as they could. And meanwhile, Morgaine returned her attention to finding Lancelot a suitable bride.

With Gaheris, Arthur could have sworn he'd gone back in time and was looking at a 14 year-old Gawain. He also presented a crisis of a different color altogether. While Bergisa was older and much more accustomed to the anomalies of the world, being four years older than the 19 year old Dark Child, Gaheris was fourteen! He was young and idealistic, constantly tagging along behind his older brother and incessantly getting underfoot. He believed that Knights were honor-bound to be admirable and noble. Gawain, worried about his easily impressionable little brother's reaction to his own relationship with a fellow Knight's wife, moved out of their chamber and moved into the one directly next door, with Gaheris sleeping on a mat on the floor.

Between Gawain's bed and the door. Basically cutting them off from each other.

The move that both Gawain and Morgaine had initially felt was necessary now put strain on their relationship with each other. They always had to be careful about whether Gaheris was going to pop up out of the woodwork and catch them together. And she didn't sleep well either, feeling the empty hole in her bed at her back. She had no appetite and her attention wandered frequently. She was listless throughout the day and dark blue-black circles bordered her eyes.

One day, almost two weeks after Gaheris' arrival, Galahad threw open the door to the new Round Table. He was displaying a temper unlike any the Knights had seen since Morgaine had returned to the Wall. "This has got to stop!" he shouted, throwing himself into his seat.

Morgaine followed him in, exhaustion eloquent in every line of her body. Gawain, conscious of Gaheris at his side, watched her stumble into the room, not at all like his confident and self-assured Dark Child. She gasped as she staggered, slamming into the doorframe awkwardly. Galahad moved to rise, but was waved back again as she straightened once more. Everyone, but Gaheris, could see her ironclad grip on the doorjamb as she fought to maintain her balance. Arthur stood from his seat, staring at his sister, shocked at her drastically altered appearance. She had lost close to thirty pounds and her normally straight carriage was dragged down until she was slouching almost in half. "Rhiannon? My god, Child. Are you all right?"

Morgaine gave her protective older brother a weak grin. "I'm fine Arthur. Just tired."

"Take a nap, then. And while you're at it, get something to eat." Arthur insisted, seeing the desperation in Gawain's eyes.

Gawain turned to his brother. "Gaheris. I just remembered that I left something in the stables. Run and get it for me."

"What was it? Do I have to go now? Can't I look for it later?" the boy whined, upset about having to leave his first Council of the Round Table, as the now weekly meetings were called.

Gawain leveled a stern eye on the lad and Gaheris swallowed audibly at the barely concealed warning in his older brother's eyes. "Look for it now and I'm sure you will find it a lot faster than it would take for you to sit here and run your mouth," he advised between clenched teeth.

Gaheris, knowing when he had lost, nodded and ran from the room. As soon as Gaheris was gone, Jols slammed and barred the door. Gawain was up and at Morgaine's side before the echo had even faded. Morgaine threw herself into her lover's arms, clinging to him with a sob. "Morgaine, what's wrong?" he asked, his arms closing around her solidly, one hand tangled in the inky black tresses of her hair, fingers massaging her scalp calmingly. Her bones were frightfully close to her skin and she was almost translucent. Not to mention, the woman herself was almost in hysterics, which was not like the Dark Child at all.

She was rambling, her voice was chocked full of panic and her fingers gripped his cotton shirt in a death-grip. "I can't sleep. Not without you. You and Galahad are my mainstays. It's so cold." There was a pause and when she spoke again, everyone had to strain to hear what she had said. "I'm so tired," she murmured, her eyes rolling back as she passed out in his arms.

"Morgaine!" came the concerned cry from the entire room.

Gawain's arms tightened around her, his knees bending as he lowered them both to the floor gently. Galahad crouched beside them, taking her hand between both of his own. Arthur looked up at Jols. "Run and get Merlin. And send Bergisa; she and the other women may be able to help as well."

"Not Isolde or Guinevere. They're pregnant. You can't afford for them to get sick right now. Not with Morgaine out of commission." Galahad muttered, his eyes firmly on his wife's face.

Arthur nodded, waving at Jols. Jols threw open the door and left at a frantic run. He laid a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "She needs you both more than I do. Take her to her room and stay with her. I'll send Merlin to you."

They nodded and Gawain lifted her carefully, both of them headed for their chamber. They carefully prepared her for bed and then took up their usual places on both sides of her. On her right side between them, Gawain was tucked behind her. His arms looped around her stomach and his face was buried in the joint of her neck and shoulder. Galahad lay in front of her, his and Morgaine's fingers entwined together, his green eyes watching her sleep solemnly. Both felt a sense of normalcy return at the familiar sleeping positions. Neither of them noticed Gaheris in the doorframe.

The squire could see Morgaine lying limply in Gawain's arms and both his brother and her husband in tears at her side. His eyes grew huge as Gawain lifted her right hand and pressed a trembling kiss to the silver ring resting on the ring finger there. "Come on, Morgaine. Wake up, my love. Please," the blonde begged the unconscious woman-child, his voice caught in his throat by his sobs. Closing his eyes against his tears, the tired Knight couldn't resist the sharp pull of exhaustion and he fell unwillingly into a deep sleep, comforted by the feeling of the woman he loved held securely in his arms. Morgaine hadn't been the only one who hadn't slept since the move; Gawain could just hide it better.

Arthur was moving toward his sister's chamber and saw the squire standing there, his mouth drawing down unconsciously into a sour frown. "Gaheris," he called softly, his eyes glued to the boy.

The squire looked like a deer in headlights at being caught and tried to escape, but Arthur was faster. His hand shot out and gripped the boy by the shoulders. Taking in the sight in the doorway, he knocked lightly. Galahad looked over and grimaced at the sight of Gawain's little brother, nodding at the unspoken question. Shutting the door and turning him across the hall to the chamber Arthur shared with his wife, Arthur pushed him inside. Guinevere was sitting there with Isolde, both trying to stay out of the way in case Morgaine was really ill. Shooting to her feet at the sight of her husband, she inquired, "Is Morgaine all right?"

Arthur tightened his grip on the squirming child, before speaking to his wife. "I don't know."

Guinevere nodded and sat back down again. Unable to bear it any longer, Gaheris wrenched away from the Briton King and shouted, "I can't believe he would do that to Galahad! And that treacherous who….!"

His words were abruptly cut off as the backside of Arthur's hand caught him full across the face. "Hold your tongue." Arthur ordered, his voice as cold as frost.

Guinevere gave a great sigh, knowing that her husband was fretting about his sister and also sensing an undercurrent of terror in his voice. "Gaheris, I want you to listen to me, all right? The Knights, their Ladies, Arthur and I make up one very big, very unconventional family and Morgaine has her place in that family. She is my sister-in-law, Lancelot and Arthur's adoptive sister, Galahad and Gawain's wife, a kind of daughter to Bors and Vanora, almost a cousin to Tristan and Dagonet and she is the aunt of Dagonet's son, Lucan.

She rested her hand on the boy's shoulder, pulling him gently to her chair. "Arthur and I dote on and spoil her terribly, Arthur even legally adopted her so that she would really be his 'beloved baby sister'. She was Isolde's childhood playmate, and she arranged the match between Isolde and her husband, Tristan, both of whom are madly in love with each other. Lancelot, the arrogant rake, treats her as he would treat a treasured sister. He adores her as well and will do anything to help protect her. Vanora took her under her wing when she was fourteen years old and newly arrived at the Wall. Tristan and Dagonet protect her faithfully, while Bors roughs her up just like he does the rest of us.

"She rescued Gal from his own fury, while giving Gawain something pure to hold onto. Both of those Knights have pledged to love and honor her all the days of their lives. I have heard horror stories about how things were when she was gone from the Wall all those years ago. Galahad lost his temper with everyone and everything, raging at the world. While your brother, kind and serious Gawain, was forced to pick up the pieces of those Galahad came down on, time and time again. There was none of the laughter you hear now a days; there was no love; there was none of what makes Camelot such a wonderful place. It was all about ridding themselves of Rome and scattering to the four winds.

"Everyone in this Palace loves and adores that woman. And everyone knows about Gawain's relationship with her. He has shared their bed and her heart for almost seven months. They didn't want to cause you any undue stress and so Gawain moved out when you got here. And since you got here, neither of them have been sleeping or eating or resting. Gawain thinks he's hiding it, but us women can tell. So, you're going to suck it up and be silent. You're his brother and Arthur's squire, Gaheris, and Gawain loves you dearly. But Morgaine and her son, Archie, are his world."

Gaheris' hand was pressed to his cheek, his eyes wide. No one had ever hit him. "They wouldn't do this at home," he muttered petulantly.

"This relationship wasn't going to happen at all, until Galahad, of all people, called them on it. Morgaine was determined to hide her feelings for your brother. Probably even marry him off to some beautiful young girl like she is doing with the other Knights. But Galahad told her that he knew. Galahad has given his permission. Gawain doesn't need yours." Arthur remarked gently, trying to get through to the young man.

Gaheris nodded, realizing that statement for the truth it was. Gawain was nearly thirty and perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Their mother had always said that Gawain was a restless spirit and probably wouldn't ever settle down. If someone had convinced him to do so, that person was special indeed. That didn't mean that he had to like it though. Arthur slumped into the chair, ordering, "Go saddle up my yearling, Dan. I have to go and get Merlin. He'll want to be here when his daughter is ill."

Gaheris nodded and turned to leave, dashing at full speed toward the stables. An hour later, Arthur was back with Merlin perched nervously on the yearling behind him. Woads didn't ride; Morgaine was a rare exception. Everyone attributed it to her Sarmatian blood. Merlin was off the horse and following Arthur quickly. The two shoved open the double doors. Galahad was sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing silly designs over the pale flesh of her palm, while Gawain stood watchful against the opposite wall. "Come on, Morgaine. Fight this. Come back to me. I lost you once and it nearly killed me," he confessed, leaning forward to murmur against her forehead, "I can't loose you again."

Gawain came to the other side of the bed as Galahad sat up, bending to kiss her forehead as well. "Gaheris knows now. I think its time for me to move back into this room." Gawain declared softly, his fingers trailing lazily over the ring on his right ring-finger. It was identical to the one on Morgaine's right ring finger and it was a symbol of her marriage to him.

"That's fine by me. This isn't helping anyone. Either Gaheris deals with it, or he doesn't. He wants to be a Knight, which means he'll be around for a long time. We couldn't have kept this hidden forever."

"I know. But we tried. Gods help us, we tried. I'm going to go pack up my stuff. Gaheris can have that room now. It'll be close to Arthur, so that's important."

"Think Jols is ever going to become a Knight?" Galahad asked rhetorically.

Arthur spoke, "That's a good idea, Galahad. He deserves it, after everything that's happened.

Galahad shrugged. "Glad to be of assistance."

Merlin smiled at the curly-haired young man. He had always liked the Sarmatian warrior in front of him. When his Woads had still been at war with the Sarmatian Knights and their Roman commander, he had tried to keep him alive, for Morgaine's sake. "How are you doing, Sarmatian?"

Galahad smiled weakly up at his father-in-law, shaking his head. "I'll be better when I know what's wrong with her."

Gawain remarked from his place against the wall, "I think we all will. Where's Bergisa?"

"I'm here. Is she okay? I came as soon as I could get away," Bergisa insisted as she rushed inside the chamber, her dusky brown hair pulled back into a simple plait down the back of her rough cotton work-dress.

Merlin was examining his daughter and spoke up, "She's fine. She's suffering from exhaustion. Make sure she gets plenty of rest from here on in and she should recover fully. Let her regain her reserves. They seem to be drastically rundown. The last time that happened, Morgaine caught the plague and we almost lost her."

Arthur nodded, shuddering to remember how unbearable it had been to think she was gone. Gawain and Galahad suffered a similar reaction and Galahad's grip on his wife's hand tightened fractionally. Bergisa touched Morgaine's shoulder. "We'll look after her, sir."

Merlin nodded at the woman. "I need to talk to Arthur for a moment. Will you three be able to handle her should she wake?"

"We'll be fine, Merlin." Galahad reassured the blue-painted patriarch.

Merlin nodded and proceeded Arthur from the room, moving away to talk shop. Bergisa shrugged out of her shawl and took a seat in the rocking chair in the corner. "Is there anything that needs done? Mending?"

"There's the mending basket to the left of the chair."

Bergisa nodded and dug her sewing kit from the pouch at her belt. Pulling one of Archie's tiny shirts from the basket, she busied herself with patching up the holes in the elbows. Galahad and Gawain finally got restless, pacing back and forth. Bergisa grumbled impatiently, allowing the mending to fall to her lap. "Oh for the heaven's sakes. Get out, the both of you. It's a miracle that she manages to sleep with the two of you hovering like avenging dragons. Go use some of that energy in the practice yard. I'll look after her and send someone for you should she wake."

Gawain looked at her curiously. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Now, shoo!"

The two nodded and scooped up their blades, heading for the yard to work off some nervous intensity. Bergisa sighed when they were gone, before returning to the mending. Morgaine slept peacefully for most of the afternoon, waking just before supper. Bergisa smiled at the sound of her disgruntled mumbles. Coming to the edge of the bed, she watched as Morgaine pulled open her eyes. "Hey there. Welcome back to the land of the living."

Morgaine cracked a small smile up at one of her best friends. "Galahad? Gawain?"

"Out in the practice yard. Driving me crazy, the both of them."

"They're good at that. I know the feeling. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. You just haven't been getting enough rest. How about we get you dressed and then we go and watch your young men try to kill each other? Fairly non-strenuous and entertaining to boot."

"Maybe you can watch Lancelot get his butt kicked by Tristan. Nobody can beat Tristan. And I think they're sparring today." Morgaine laughed.

Remembering her earlier fight with the arrogant Knight, Bergisa muttered, "It couldn't happen to a better man. He needs to get that annoying conceit of his knocked down a couple pegs now and then."

Morgaine laughed, sitting up slowly and dressing in a simple gown. "Where's my son, Archie?"

"I believe that Vanora has him. They're trying to let you get as much rest as you possibly can. Merlin's orders. He's probably having a blast driving her crazy in the kitchen, banging on all the pots and pans."

"I can believe that," the child-bride agreed, looping her arm through Bergisa's as they walked slowly down the hallway toward the practice yard.

Both of her Knights were decked out in light armor, which meant that Galahad was wearing his kilt, causing Morgaine's eyes to light up with wicked thoughts. "Damn, haven't seen that in awhile."

Bergisa chuckled, guiding her to bale of hay where they could see them fight. They had obviously been going pretty much nonstop, if the sheen of sweat clinging to both of their bodies was any indication. Their blades clashed loudly against one another, both of them putting their whole force into it. Morgaine jumped as Galahad's blade grazed too close for her own comfort to Gawain's ribs and then let out a startled shriek as Gawain's blade nicked Galahad's bicep, causing blood to leak from the minor wound. Both of them stopped at the sound, turning to see what had made it, heaving air into their lungs. "Nazneen!" Galahad cried, exuberant, leaping the fence around the yard and throwing his arms around his wife. "How are you feeling?"

Morgaine hugged him back tightly, breathing in that familiar scent of man, sweat and leather that she always associated with him. "Better, Sarmatian. I feel much better. I noticed that Gawain's stuff is back in our room."

"Gaheris found out about our relationship, completely on accident, and so I just decided to screw it." Gawain confessed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure. As long as you're in my bed tonight, I can only get better."

Gawain smiled, nodding. "You have my word."

Morgaine nodded at him. "Good to hear," she muttered, pulling her veil from her hair and pushing it absently against the still bleeding wound.

Galahad pulled a cotton handkerchief from his boot and replaced her veil with it. "Your beautiful veil, Nazneen, is going to get ruined if you use it to clean up my blood."

"It's only fabric, Sarmatian. I can clean it. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just a nick. I'm sure we've gotten plenty of them since we retreated here in hopes of finding some shred of sanity." Gawain reminded her fondly.

Morgaine scowled, before hearing her son's voice call happily, "Momma!"

She caught the brunt of her son's impact directly in the solar plexus, knocking her breath out for a moment, before she squeezed him tightly. "How are you my lad?"

"Are you okay now? Number Five said you were dying."

"I'm not dying, love."

"He said he saw you! You died in Papa's arms."

"No, honey, I just fell asleep. See? I'm alive and well, holding you in my arms."

Bergisa smiled as the happy family reassured themselves that the woman who kept them all together was safe and well, before returning her attention to the practice yard. She grinned at the sight of Lancelot sparring with Tristan, Tristan having already gotten the upper hand in the fight. Lancelot's swords went flying in opposite directions, before he himself got knocked onto his backside into the mud. Her grin turned wicked, "Serves him right. This could get interesting."


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: And now Kindly Words for my Kindly reviewers.

lilstrummrgrl527: Tristan is married. He's not going to remain celibate, especially not with a beautiful like Isolde for a wife. giggle giggle You could think about it that way, but Bergisa isn't that tall either. So my explanation would be that all Sarmatian women are tiny. Morgaine just happens to be the tiniest. ;) And yes, things between Bergisa and her favorite antagonist, Lancelot, will get VERY interesting.

:op: Yeah! New people! I'm glad you think it keep getting better and better. And I guess you can borrow Gawain, if you promise you'll give him back.

Babak: I love your screen name. It works for you. Thank you for your email! I loved it. And Morgaine's okay, just tired. And it would be cool to have a brother like Tristan. He and Isolde have differing opinions about you know who. You'll laugh later, it's funny!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Why yes! I think there will be love match between Lancelot and Bergisa. But, shhh! Don't tell anyone. It's a secret. wink wink Ah darn, it got out! giggle giggle

Magpie-Detonation: Glad you enjoyed it. If you email me, I'd love to help you get past your road block. I'm good at that. Ask my brothers. Run far and run fast though, or Morgaine's probably going to go postal on you! She's very jealous when it comes to her men. ;)

Evenstar-mor2004: I don't know it you read Babak's review, so I'm just going to quote her verbatim "Bergisa is Persian/Farsi and it means 'star'. Apparently, it is also Greek but that makes sense since there was a lot of mixing under Alexander the Great and the Persian Empire." I hope that answers your question. It's Babak's name, so she would know better than I. giggle giggle And I completely understand about the 14 year old. And here! (Hands over a plushie Archie) Now you have an Archie of your own. wink wink

HGandRHForever: I hope you're okay! Get better soon. And I think I can do something with Gareth and Aggravaine. Give me a day or so to think about it and we'll see, okay? I'm glad you think G/M/G went better than you thought it would. And yes, Morgiane will be better and scheming soon. Next chapter actually. Although, it's very subtle. You can't blink or you'll miss it.

Andromahke and Babak: There's a lot of gooey Arthur/Guinevere-ieness. I hope you like it and don't completely think I'm a dork.

And so, with a quick stop at the neighboring 7-Eleven...

Chapter Forty-Seven

Pregnant women have never been allowed to engage in strenuous activities, doctors preferring inactivity to protect their unborn children and give the child some kind of advantage over the rest of those that perished moments after birth.

Morgaine quickly realized that the role of inactivity did not sit easy with the Queen, and the still tired Healer had her hands full trying to convince her brother's wife to take it easy during her pregnancy. Two weeks after Morgaine's fainting spell, Guinevere was pacing back and forth in her chambers, the almost eight month bulge of her pregnancy swelled out in front of her. Morgaine was standing to the side, shaking her head in refusal. "Come on, Morgaine. I'm going crazy in here. I have to do something! Ride a horse, spar with a warrior, something!"

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, you're eight months pregnant. You cannot spar or ride! It could harm the baby. If you like, I could walk with you around the gardens, but that's about as strenuous as you're allowed to get. Healer's orders."

Guinevere humphed, slouching into her chair at the window. "This is so boring!" she whined.

Morgaine smiled. "If it'll make you feel better, I know how you feel. When I was pregnant with Archie, my father didn't let me do anything. And when they were moving me north, I had to stay in the back of a cart, with Mary-Megan tethered to the back. That was the worst kind of torture. Letting me see the one thing I wanted to do, but knew I couldn't."

Guinevere nodded, looking out the window sullenly. Morgaine came to the window and sat on the seat carved out of the stone there. "When is Arthur coming home?" she asked gently, sensing that boredom was not the only reason for the Queen's sour mood.

Arthur and the Knights had ridden out to quell a Saxon attack to the South, taking Jols and Gaheris with them. They were due back any day now, but meanwhile the entire palace was a little tense. Guinevere, heavily pregnant and prone to the rapidly fluctuating emotions of any pregnant woman, seemed to be taking it the hardest. This was not the first tantrum she'd thrown, nor was it likely to be her last. She slumped lower, tracing lazy fingers over her belly, as she replied, "Today or tomorrow."

Morgaine nodded, pleased that she had guessed right. "Isolde is suffering just as much as you are. So are Vanora and I . We all miss our husbands terribly when they go away. I was separated from Galahad for two years! Surely you can handle a few weeks without your man?"

Guinevere nodded, with a sob, burying her face into her sister-in-law's lap. "I know I'm being childish, Morgaine. I just miss him. I want him here, not out there. He could get killed and I'll never have said goodbye. It's enough to drive a woman to insanity, you know?"

"I know," she soothed, before looking outside. "It's a beautiful day. There's so rarely sunshine in Britain. How about I go and get Vanora, Bergisa, Isolde and the children and we go have a picnic? You'll be outside and maybe you won't be so bored. I think you're just feeling a little claustrophobic. Staring at the same four walls for days on end will drive anyone mad."

Guinevere nodded, sitting up and drying her tears. Morgaine nodded in return, replying, "Good. Let me go talk to Vanora about the picnic lunch and then I'll be back to help you get ready to go out. You'll want to change into something cooler than you're currently wearing."

Guinevere nodded, watching her sister-in-law stand. Morgaine bent and kissed her forehead. "He'll be all right, Gwen. He has to be."

Smiling tremulously at the poised Princess, Guinevere watched her leave. About an hour later, they were outside of the castle walls, sitting among a carpet of wildflowers and laughing at the play of the children. Morgaine and Bergisa had built a veritable mountain of pillows and blankets, easing the Queen onto them. She reclined there now, laughing with the rest of her friends, as Morgaine told a story about Arthur from when she was at the Wall as a young girl. "It was like this. I had gotten lost. I was fourteen, new to the Wall and inexperienced as to its layout. Arthur and Galahad had been busy when I had decided to go on my impromptu tour and at the time, I usually tried to avoid the other Knights. Gawain and I had an uneasy truce and he was at least kind to me, but I didn't want to bother him. Anyway, I ended up lost for the whole day. I had gotten locked accidentally into some dreadful room that had no torches, or candles, or anything. Well, about suppertime, when I didn't show up, Arthur started to get worried. He ordered a search of the whole Wall, afraid that some Roman had killed me or something, seeing the tattoos I wore. Ironically, it was Arthur himself who found me. He and Gawain managed to un-jam the door and wrench it open. The second the torchlight streamed into the room, Arthur gave an unholy yelp. Apparently I was not the first to get locked into the room. Unfortunately for them, they hadn't been found."

"Arthur yelped?" Guinevere asked, giggling, unable to imagine her usually stoic husband startled enough to give a frightened yell.

"It was the funniest thing! He nearly dropped the torch and his entire face went ashen. He started to cross himself frantically, eyes fixed just over my shoulder. I didn't get it, at least until I turned around. Fainted dead away. Fortunately, in my fumbling search, I hadn't come across their corpses or I would have swooned earlier and Arthur would have never followed the sound of my voice to me. I could have ended up like those poor people."

"What were they?"

"Courtesans. Probably got stuck like I did."

"What happened to them?"

Morgaine shifted, "They left them there. The bones had been undisturbed for so long and it was technically their burial ground. So we didn't move them. I imagine they're still there."

Suddenly, there was the familiar sound of pounding hooves, causing everyone looked up at the steady cadence. Guinevere's entire face lit up as the implications became clear, Isolde's beside her doing the same. "Morgaine? Is it them? Is it my husband?" Guinevere asked, unable to stand without assistance from her place on the blanket.

Morgaine stood and turned toward the sound of horses. "It looks like it."

Smiling, she waved over her head at the appearance of the exhausted, but triumphant, Knights. Catching sight of them first, Galahad stood in his stirrups, his kilt waving in the light breeze. Smiling at the sight of his raven-haired beauty, he raised a gauntleted hand and waved back. "It looks like the women, Arthur," Gawain called to his commander, pulling his horse to a stop beside Galahad's, Gaheris on Gawain's other side.

Arthur pulled up and turned, following his pointing finger. Seeing his wife reclining on pillows, he smiled. "Come on then, let's go over and see them."

Changing direction, the Knights rode casually toward the tiny picnic. Bors' horse was swarmed by his children, all of them talking at once as he stopped. Lucan waited patiently for Dagonet to climb down and then laughed as Dagonet lifted him into his arms for a tight hug. The second Tristan was off his horse, Isolde had managed to fly into his arms with a joyous cry of his name, despite her four month bulge of pregnancy. He swept her up and around, as easily as though he was lifting a child, his face buried in the warm flesh of her throat. Pulling only fractionally away, he covered her mouth in a desperate kiss. Waiting for them to break apart, Bergisa giggled as her brother gestured her over and pulled her in as well, kissing her temple.

Galahad caught Archie as he flew across the meadow, tossing the little boy high into the air as Gawain swung a laughing Morgaine into his arms, kissing her soundly. Pulling back from Gawain, she allowed herself to be swapped between the two. Looking her husband up and down, she flicked a lazy finger at the fluttering kilt. Galahad's ivy eyes took on a wicked gleam and she laughed, murmuring, "Later."

"Damn right, later," he growled, hauling her up to his lips for a desperate kiss. Morgaine moaned breathlessly and threw her arms around his neck in encouragement.

Arthur dismounted from his horse and came to his wife's side. There were tears rolling down her cheeks and her arms were reaching out for him. He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. Guinevere sobbed, burying her face into his chest. "You're home!" she cried into his chest, clutching him to her desperately.

Pulling back, Arthur trailed his fingers down her face gently, asking quietly, "Are these happy tears?"

She nodded, pulling his mouth to hers firmly. Arthur kissed her hard, relishing the taste of her after his long absence, his long fingers tangled in the flowing locks of her hair hidden by the silken veil on her head. Morgaine pulled back from Galahad and Gawain, speaking quietly, "So, how did it go?"

"Went off without a hitch. Driven from the Island again." Gawain assured his wife.

Lancelot hugged his sister next, continuing where Gawain left off, "There's nothing to worry about. We're just tired and hungry."

"There's plenty of food left. We were just having a picnic, hoping to cheer up Guinevere. Vanora and the cook made enough to feed an army. They must have known you were coming back."

"Vanora's cooking?" Gawain questioned eagerly, before laughing, "I'm game."

Vanora beamed at the blond Knight fondly, all of the Knights treated as though they were one of her own. "Bless you, boy. You and your stomach."

Gawain grinned and plopped down at Morgaine's feet, digging into the picnic basket for a chicken wing. Looking at the other men, Morgaine laughed, "Take a seat. There really is plenty of food left."

The Knights gathered around, the basket passed among the Knights and the picnic began again. Morgaine sat down, Gawain shifting to put his head on her left leg with Galahad settling behind her and pulling her back against his chest. Gaheris, opened his mouth to comment, but a cuff up the back of his head caused him to turn. Vanora was scowling at him, admonishing, "You keep your mouth shut."

Gaheris subsided back, his sharp retort held in check. A huge smile creased Guinevere's face from where she was tucked firmly against her husband's hip, her head laying contentedly in his lap. Morgaine cocked an eyebrow in question, causing the Queen to nod with a happy laugh. Morgaine smiled at her, reaching to squeeze her hand, before returning her attention to her son, who was dashing from Papa to Daddy, demanding their whole attention. He had missed the two and was giving them both a detailed play by play of the days they had been gone.

Lucan looked up at his father, watching him sit back and listen to the conversations going on around him. "Da?"

Dagonet looked down at his son, smiling gently at him. "What's up, Luc?"

"I missed you, Da."

Dagonet grinned, pulling the boy close, stroking back the unruly blond curls. "I missed you too Luc."

Lucan grinned and leaned against his father's chest, both listening to everything that was going on around them.

Nearly two months later, the King and his Knights were in council. They were in the middle of a discussing Jols' upcoming Knighting, when Vanora came dashing into the Chamber. Everyone stopped, turning to look at her, concerned by her abrupt appearance. She was panting hard, and Bors stood frantically. "Vanora? What's wrong, love?"

"It's the Queen!"

Arthur lunged, grabbing her arms. "What's happened? Is she all right? Is it the baby?" Shaking her at her silence, he demanded, "Tell me!"

"She's in labor."

Arthur was gone before anyone even blinked.

"Is the Queen all right?" Galahad asked, running alongside Vanora and the rest of the Knights after Arthur's trail.

"The Child says she's doing well. She's healthy and strong. There shouldn't be any problems. And she's of a good age. She's not too young."

Lancelot questioned as they turned a corner. "Does it seem strange that some of us still call Lady 'the Dark Child' although she's no longer a child?"

Galahad and Gawain shook their heads, answering as one, "No."

"Just checking," he replied, as they joined a frantic Arthur in the antechamber outside his room, with Vanora disappearing into the chamber again.

Nearly three nerve-wracking hours passed before, at last, the Dark Child herself, followed by Bergisa, exited the room, both of them giggling happily. She was wiping her hands on a rag and looked up, stumbling back slightly at the sight of all of the Knights waiting there. "Hello," she said, the 'o' getting drawn out in her surprise. "I'm assuming you heard?" she drawled lightly.

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine. So is the child." Morgaine assured her frantic older brother, smiling at his anxious appearance.

"What is it?"

"You have a beautiful baby girl, Arthur. She's angelic."

Arthur beamed as his Knights slapped him on the back in congratulations. "May I see her?"

"Absolutely." Morgaine assured him, pushing open the chamber door and stepping back so that he could pass her into the room.

The Knights were called to dinner before Arthur finally left his wife's side. Joining them in the middle of the meal, Arthur was still glowing with pride. "We're going to name her Viviane."

"Viviane?" Gawain asked.

"Yes, after Morgaine's mother," he confessed, sitting down and dishing up.

Morgaine smiled at her brother as Galahad questioned, "So, do you understand how Bors, Gawain and I feel now?"

"If something ever happens to that little girl I'll die. I just want her to be happy."

"We know exactly how you feel." Gawain laughed, concentrating completely on his meal.

Morgaine and Bergisa, seated next to her, rolled their eyes, scoffing at her men, before both listened intently as Arthur extolled all of his daughter's virtues throughout the rest of the meal.


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

AN: Two chapters in one day! How special you all are. I hope you like! A salute to Jols, a very underestimated character as far as I'm concerned. The actor who plays him is in my other favorite movies, Horatio Hornblower, Episode 1-6. I don't know if he's in 7 and 8 because they called Archie (I love this name) in Six and I boycotted from there. Giggle giggle

Chapter Forty-Eight

The following week, the entire main hall of Camelot was decked out in brightly colored decorations. Arthur was seated uncomfortably on his throne at the front of the hall, both him and his Queen dressed in very fine garments. His throne was made of beautifully smoothed cherry wood, upholstered in beautiful red cloth, and footed in gold, placed on the very top of a two-tiered dais.

Guinevere sat to Arthur's right on a cherry wood bench, straight backed and proud, her right foot tucked delicately under her body. Precious little Viviane was sleeping quietly in a gilded bassinet at Guinevere's right. There was no back to Guinevere's seat, the entire bench shaped as a shallow "U" with the arms curving into graceful curls. A crimson red cushion sat in the bottom of the scoop to make the wood more comfortable. It, too, was footed in gold. An empty seat for Morgaine, identical to Guinevere's, sat to Arthur's left, placed below the King and Queen on the first tier of the platform. The King and Queen were quite the pair, and this was the first time what Morgaine teasingly called the "Royal Regalia" had seen the light of day. These garments were designed only for major events.

Guinevere sparkled like the night sky, wearing a beautiful gown of royal blue silk with shining silver and gold threads dashed through the fabric, which highlighted the paleness of her skin. The making of the gown had worn Morgaine, Bergisa's and Isolde's fingers to the bone as they stitched it. As a married woman, she had also allowed Morgaine to fashion a veil to cover her hair. The veil was the same color as the dress, though it was made of mesh and embroidered with ivory-colored roses. Her simply fashioned crown rested on top of the veil, holding it in place.

Arthur's own uniform was just as stunning as his wife's. His tunic was made of velvet, the color of which was a perfect foil for Guinevere's gown. It had taken Guinevere and Morgaine three weeks to finish this tunic alone. The goldsmith had made a heavy gold chain for around his neck, the symbol of Camelot embellished on a coin hanging from the chain. His trousers were black and clean, his boots polished to a high sheen. He too wore a crown, identical in both make and model to Guinevere's.

It was a special day. The first of it's kind at Camelot. Today….was Jols' Knighting day.

The dais upon which the King and Queen sat was at one end of the hall. On each side of the dais were seven empty chairs, with five empty benches like Guinevere's. These seats belonged to the Knights and their ladies. Each had the emblem of each individual Knight somewhere on the seat.

Dagonet had chosen a gold-embossed sunburst for him and whatever wife Morgaine chose; Bors and Vanora, a running stag; Lancelot, a pair of crossed silver blades; Tristan and Isolde, a majestic hawk; and Galahad, the waxing moon while Gawain bore the waning moon, both embossed in silver, with Morgaine's bench adorned with both. Jols had not yet chosen his emblem and so his seats would remain plain until he did so.

Seeing as she was the Princess of Camelot, outranking all but the King and Queen, Morgaine would sit reluctantly elevated from the rest of the Knights and their Ladies. Archie would -hopefully- stand still and quiet to the right of her bench, as Arthur's Heir, tiny hand resting casually on the curved wood. It was a formality that both Arthur and Merlin had insisted on.

Morgaine thought they were being ridiculous. But as usual, no one heard her protestations.

Guinevere and Arthur smiled and greeted each guest from their place on the dais. Finally, Arthur's Court filed in. Morgaine was escorted in first, led by Gawain and Galahad. Archie trailed along behind the three, unnaturally serious for the normally precocious four year-old. Following them was Lancelot, reluctantly escorting Tristan's equally reluctant sister, Bergisa; and then Bors and Vanora; and then Tristan and Isolde; and finally Dagonet. Galahad and Gawain were placed on each side of the dais, the couples paired accordingly from there.

The Knights were adorned in their light armor, while the Ladies dazzled the eyes in their gorgeous gowns. Each of the Ladies wore gowns made in the same style as Guinevere; Vanora in striking ivy, Isolde in flaming orange, Bergisa is sedate crimson and Morgaine in an eye-catching bronze at Guinevere's insistence, attesting to her title as Princess and the third most powerful person in Camelot.

Morgaine, as Camelot's Princess, would sit first. She did, followed by the rest. Archie placed his tiny hand on the armrest of his mother's chair and stood still, a silver coronet marking him as Arthur's Heir. Waiting a moment, the regal Dark Child stood once more, touching her son's head in passing to calm him. Arthur had asked her to take care of the formalities with the people, beginning the ceremony. She was the Heir of Merlin and knew how to talk to her father's people. What's more, they knew and loved her. Moving to stand in front of her King and Queen, she curtsied low to her brother. "Your Majesty, I would ask your permission to speak to the assembly," she declared full-voice.

"You have the floor, Milady," Arthur insisted, hating the formality with his sister, but understand its necessity.

Morgaine gave her brother a small smile and wink, causing shoulders to immediately start to loosen. His lip curved upward minutely, though Guinevere sent her sister-in-law a wide smile. Straightening from her position, Morgaine turned to face the people in the hall. Her arms came up in a plea for silence, the bell-sleeves falling back to display Sarmatian dark arms. "My friends, today is a special day! The Knights of Camelot have proclaimed their allegiance and service to Our Noble Monarch, His Majesty, King Arthur. Today, they add a new member to their ranks. Jols of Rome, come forward and make your oath!" she called, her hand out toward the oaken double doors at the back of the main hall.

Everyone stood and turned to look at the doors at her motion. The huge doors reached to the ceiling and slowly, they creaked open. Jols stood there, looking very nervous. Morgaine smiled at him, getting a small smile in return. She nodded at him, as he seemed to gird himself with confidence and moved down the aisle. Moving to her side, he offered her his arm. She looped her elbow through his, allowing him to escort her back to her seat. He bowed to her and then stepped from the dais, bowing next to Arthur. Morgaine continued standing, gesturing toward Jols. "My Liege, I present to you….your squire, Jols of Rome."

Arthur stood at his cue, nodding at his sister, as Jols knelt at his feet. She retook her seat at the dismissal. Galahad looked back at her for a moment, before both returned their attention to the ritual before them. Jols drew his sword from its sheath and offered the blade to his King, Arthur gripping the offered weapon tightly. Though the rest of the people were pagan, Arthur and Jols -raised as Romans- were Christian. Holding it carefully in the fashion of a Christian cross, he held it level with Jols' head. They spoke together softly in Latin for a moment, before Arthur called out loudly for the whole audience to hear, "Who sponsors this petitioner for Knighthood?"

Morgaine stood fluidly, immediately the envy of every woman in the room with her poise, her hands clasped demurely in front of her as she curtsied. "I do, My Liege."

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, before turning his questions to Jols. "Do you, Jols of Rome, pledge that you are a faithful and loyal Briton?"

Jols attempted to speak, but only managed a nervous croak. Clearing his voice, he declared, "I do, My Liege."

"Do you pledge that you are a faithful and loyal member of this court?"

"I do, My Liege."

"You have been tried and tested and found true. Make your oath."

Lancelot rolled his eyes throughout the ceremony, receiving a swift kick from Bergisa, where she sat at Tristan's right. He glared at her viciously, as Jols took the blade, still in cross-fashion, before taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I, Jols of Rome and citizen of Camelot, hereby pledge my allegiance to the Crown of Arthur for all the days of my life. I will live to protect, honor, serve my sovereign no matter the task. I will follow where he leads me, go where he sends me and obey as he commands me. And if I should break this oath, may this holy iron, forged in the Fires of Britain herself, drink my blood," he vowed solemnly, pressing a hard kiss to the barren haft, before slamming the blade back into the scabbard at his belt.

Arthur smiled at him. "Arise, Sir Jols, and take your place among your fellows."

Jols stood, the two men clasping arms in companionship, before Jols bowed with respect to his sponsor, receiving a small smile and a nod in return. Turning, he strode to his chair and took his seat. The entire crowd burst into cheers. Suddenly from the crowd, a pretty young woman sprang up and dashed at Jols laughing. Standing, he caught her in his arms and swung her around. Setting her down, he turned back to Arthur. "Your Majesty, I would ask that Amara take the seat at my side for the evening. Is that all right?"

Arthur turned to look at Morgaine, cocking an eyebrow, curious as to how she'd managed to find Jols a bride so quickly. Morgaine nodded once at her brother, struggling to hide her gleeful smile. Everything had worked out as she planned. Though she hadn't officially organized the match, she had guaranteed that the two would be in each other's paths at random moments. Fate had taken the necessary steps from there. Arthur shook his head ruefully in amazement of her talent, before speaking, "That would be fine, Sir Jols. The seat is hers."

Amara blushed prettily as Jols settled her gently onto the bench beside him before seating himself. Arthur remained standing, before calling out, "People of Britain! Behold! Her Protectors, the Knights of Camelot!"

The cheers from Britain were deafening.


	49. Chapter 49

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

An: Kindly words for my Kindly Reviewers.

:op: Thank you. Just remember to return him. Morgaine would be very upset if you didn't.

Evenstar-mor2004: I know! I love Jols! He's so cool!

Babaksmiles: Thank you! I love his reaction as well. Today, you and Morgaine get to go and scheme together. Wink wink

Magpie-Detonation: Yay! I know. I do not have MSN. I'll look forward to your email. I'm a Galahad Groupie so I'm biased.

HGandRHForever: I know! My mistake! I'm sorry! It was supposed to be Merlin! And I'm glad you liked Lucan/Dagonet.

Natalie: Yeah, he's got a little girl. And yes she is.

Andromahke: I'm glad you like Bergisa. And Gaheris is going to get to be a meddling little brat. But I hope you still like him. ;) I'm glad!

ZELINIA: Yay for everybody! Updated! Hope you like.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm sorry you thought it was boring. I hope you like this chapter better.

Lady Morgaine: I hope you're still okay. God Bless!

And now, without any more design……

Chapter Forty-Nine

Nearly two months after Jols' Knighthood Ceremony, Isolde herself went into labor. She bore Tristan two sons, one called Reagan and the other Riley. Tristan spent the next three months strutting around like a peacock. Bergisa adoringly insisted he was sufferable. One day during this time period, Bergisa and Morgaine were in the practice area mending some clothes as they watched Tristan and Galahad sparring together. Gawain, freshly released from his practice, was sprawled across the bench beside Morgaine, his head in her lap. Throughout the entire fight, Tristan had been grinning like an idiot. "Is that normal?" she inquired of her lover, gesturing at the look on the usually stoic Knight's face.

Gawain grimaced and shook his head. "A year ago, I would have said, 'No, it is not.' Now? Yes, it is. I'm getting worried about him. He's…." Gawain paused, obviously looking for a good word, before finally giving it up as a lost cause, "happy."

Morgaine scowled at her paramour, slapping him gently on the top of his head. "And that's a bad thing, how? You're happy with me, aren't you?"

"Now, that Gaheris has ceased to plague my every step….absolutely. Always. You know that, Lady. It's just….Tristan is usually Mr. In-Control; stoic and unfeeling, to put it nicely. Suddenly he's married and his entire attitude does a complete 180! It's slightly disturbing to see him so gleeful. And he's **always** SMILING!"

Morgaine laughed lightly, patting his shoulder. "His wife, whom he adores with every fiber of his being, just gave him twin boys, whom he adores with every fiber of his being. Boys he can raise to be strong and capable and free and lighthearted. And they'll never suffer through Roman rule. He has a lot to be smiling about. If I had another child, I have no doubt, that you and Galahad would be exactly the same way."

Gawain shrugged and conceded the point. "That's probably true."

Morgaine laughed as Bergisa squeaked in dismay. The two returned their attention to the fight, Morgaine and Gawain cheering on Galahad as he just barely managed to beat Tristan, knocking him flat onto his back. Bergisa gave a low groan, as she paid her best friend three denarii's. Morgaine crowed with delight as she stuffed the coins into her waist pouch. Everyone else in the practice yard was in shock. **Nobody** ever BEAT **_TRISTAN_**! There was no movement for maybe two heartbeats, before at last Tristan started to laugh. Really laugh. Bergisa, Morgaine, Gawain and Galahad soon joined in, while the rest of the sparring partners stared at them as though they were crazy.

As the three children got older it was easier to see who they resembled and determine their personalities. Viviane was the perfect replica of her mother, dark eyes gazing fiercely at her surroundings, her untamed passion seeming to shock everyone who touched her. Though she was not a boy, there was no doubt that she was her father's pride and joy.

Riley and Reagan were of their mother's coloring, though their eyes were the midnight blackness of their father's and just as sharp. They saw things that no one but Tristan ever saw. Tristan played the part of proud papa to a 't' giving the Knights and their Ladies a glimpse of their scout that they'd never seen before.

By the second birthdays of each child, Viviane had proven herself as capable as her father and as hot-tempered as her mother, while the twins were as gentle as Isolde with Tristan's quiet intensity. Morgaine chuckled with glee at their childish cleverness, spoiling them and her own son hopelessly. They loved to hear her regale them with grand tales of the Legendary Roman Commander, Artorius, and his equally Legendary Sarmatian Knights.

Some months before Viviane's second birthday, Morgaine got pregnant with her second child, which came as a total surprise to all of the Knights. The trio had not been trying for another child and seemed as surprised by the prospect of a second child as the rest of the palace. Though they had not been expecting it, Morgaine couldn't help but pray for a little girl.

A beautiful little girl with long wavy blond hair and sky blue eyes.

The months passed and Morgaine coped with the boredom by going through the village and tending to those she could help, or visiting a new friend, a widow by the name of Michelle. She was always accompanied by Bergisa, with either Galahad or Gawain -or sometimes both- as their escorts. The three women became good friends and Morgaine was already planning another wedding. This time, Dagonet's.

One day, Morgaine was in a particularly sour mood. It seemed like everything that was going on that day, was doing crazy things to her carefully laid out plans. Bergisa had somehow managed to lay out Lancelot flat onto his back with a well placed right hook, after he had grabbed her rear. Which caused Morgaine's already aching head to have to deal with their vicious-sounding screams. Throwing open the doors of the Chamber of the Round Table, she stormed in, her blue eyes blazing. A much calmer Bergisa stood in the doorframe, watching the events inside play out from where she was. "I'm bored and I have to get out of here!" Morgaine insisted impatiently.

Galahad and Gawain both looked up at her from their map, before turning to Arthur. Turning to face his madcap sister, the Briton King shook his head. "I can't let them go with you, Little Sister. I have a mission for them."

"So what am I supposed to do while you boys are out playing soldier?" she asked snidely, her disagreeable temper and fanatical hormones getting the best of her, her tiny foot tapping against the floor impatiently.

Arthur hummed under his breath uneasily, before coming up with the perfect idea, "How about taking Dagonet and Lucan? Dag doesn't have anything to do today. And I think Lucan is going stir crazy," he suggested, before turning to his sister's lovers. "That is, if your husbands are okay with that?"

Gawain nodded, leaning forward on his elbows. "That's fine. Dag'll take care of her."

Galahad nodded as well, before getting up and taking her arms gently between his hands. "I know you're mad that we can't go. But we'll be back before nightfall and we'll go walking with you tomorrow. You have my word."

Morgaine scowled, before nodding resignedly. "All right. Be careful. I really don't want to have to stitch anymore pieces of your bodies back together again."

Gawain laughed outright, as his best friend blushed and rubbed absently at the large gash over his ribcage. He and Lancelot had been sparring and one of Lancelot's new swords had taken a wild shot without Galahad noticing. It had taken fourteen stitches to seal and technically, the wound was still healing. "You have my word, Nazneen. No injuries," Galahad promised bowing to his wife.

"Good. I have to go find Dag. Give me kiss and I'll leave you to it."

Galahad, as the closest to her, leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, his lips tangling gently with hers in an impassioned, but chaste, embrace. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, as his right hand moved down to cup the swell of her belly. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to the distended flesh as well. "Be careful yourself. That's our child in there."

"I'll be fine. Gawain said himself, Dagonet will take care of me. And you all know that Bergisa won't let me do anything strenuous."

Gawain came to her side next, pulling her tightly to him. Morgaine just hugged him back, before surrendering her lips to his, letting him plunder at will. Breaking away and moving back, she curtsied to her brother neatly and then left the Chamber with Bergisa. Arthur looked at Gawain and Galahad, commenting absently, "She agreed with that, WAAAY too easily."

Galahad chuckled and nodded. "That might be because Michelle is who they're going to see. Lady thinks Dagonet is the perfect husband for her. You played him right into her hands."

"Michelle? I haven't heard about this one." Arthur confided, leaning back in his chair.

"Gentle, kind. A widow, whose husband perished in the plague. She has three children. Merlin asked my Lady to find her a husband. She met the woman and immediately started to plan Dagonet's wedding. Today is the day that Dag meets his future bride," Gawain laughed, just as the doors flew open and four year old Archie came running in, shouting, "Papa! Daddy!"

Galahad laughed as Archie ran straight for the closest father, doing a flying leap at Gawain. His "Papa" scooped up the boy, tossing him into the air, before settling him on his lap and continuing to listen to Arthur's outlining of the mission.

Morgaine and Bergisa found Dagonet and Lucan at the stables, brushing down a pony that Lucan had gotten from his father for his birthday. Lucan saw them first and came running. "Aunt Morgaine!" he laughed, throwing his arms around Morgaine's legs and squeezing tightly.

"Hello, Lucan my love. And how is my favorite nephew?" she asked curiously, a great smile lighting her whole face.

"I'm okay? How's my cousin?"

"Growing well. She has a heck of a kick." Morgaine mused, her hand resting gently over her swollen stomach.

"You've already decided its to be a girl then?" Dagonet teased the nineteen year old.

Morgaine laughed. "Yes. I have decided and so a girl she shall be. I was wondering Dag, would you and Lucan care to walk with me and Bergisa through the village? Arthur is sending my husbands away. And so we have no escort."

"I would be honored," he insisted, bowing to the Dark Child formally.

"Excellent. We're going to see a friend of mine, Michelle. You'll like her, I think."

Dagonet nodded, already knowing who Michelle was to be, just by the comment that Morgaine had just made. The two women walked with their elbows linked, while Dagonet walked at Morgaine's unoccupied side as Lucan dashed to and fro in front of them, enjoying the sunlight as only a child could. They arrived at Michelle's rundown cabin, and Morgaine pushed open the gate, calling out, "Michelle! It's Morgaine and Bergisa!"

A beautiful woman with waist length brown hair opened the door, standing on the doorstep with a small smile on her oval face. "Morgaine! Bergisa! How lovely to see you both. The children had been asking about you. Who is your friend?"

"Michelle, this is Dagonet. Dagonet, this is our friend, Michelle."

Michelle stepped into the sun and Dagonet's breath caught in his throat. The sunlight made her even more lovely than shadows. Her brown hair had glints of red running through it, giving her a fiery air, while her eyes shifted from a stunning blue to a hazy grey, with a touch of sea green framing the inky black depths of her pupil. She was tall, maybe three of four inches under six foot, towering over the two tiny Sarmatian women, though her head came just past Dagonet's own shoulder. Dagonet had never seen a more beautiful woman. He smiled and bowed formally to her, "My Lady Michelle."

"Sir Dagonet. Please, call me Michelle. Won't you come in?"

Morgaine just about cackled with glee at the success of her plan, Bergisa only smiling at her obvious meddling. "I think we will do so."

A little boy, about Lucan's age, came to the door and looked out, calling, "Momma?"

"It's all right, Accolon. It's only Morgaine and Bergisa. And they've brought a friend, Sir Dagonet and….," she paused as she realized that the towheaded child had not been introduced.

"I'm Lucan," the boy announced proudly. "I'm Dagonet's son. Morgaine is my aunt."

"Your son? Are you married, Sir Dagonet?"

"No. Morgaine allowed me to adopt Lucan. He is as dear to me as any child could be to its father," the gentle giant explained, looking down at his adopted son with his heart in his eyes, pride seeming to puff up every muscle inside him. He reached out and ruffled the lad's hair, making Lucan laugh and squirm.

"I see. It's obvious you care him a great deal. This is my oldest, Accolon. He's my man of the house."

"Are you married, Michelle?"

"Widowed. The plague took many people from their families," she murmured, her eyes downcast in respect for the dead.

"I am sorry for your loss, my lady."

Michelle blushed at the term, before stepping back. "Please, allow me to offer you something to eat. It's a long walk from the palace and Morgaine is very pregnant. I remember those days."

Morgaine sighed, "Thank you, Michelle. I would greatly appreciative."

The three adults followed Michelle toward the house, before they all stopped as Accolon and Lucan asked simultaneously, "Can we stay outside and play?"

"I don't mind, if its all right with you, Sir Dagonet," the smiling mother conceded, looking up into his deep blue eyes with a small smile.

Lucan's and Accolon's eyes suddenly filled with pleading as they turned their powers of persuasion on the leviathan. "Please, Da?"

"Please, Sir Dagonet? We'll be good!" Accolon reiterated, hands clasped in a heartfelt prayer.

"Yeah, Da," Lucan continued, "we won't even leave the yard."

Dagonet nodded at the two boys. "All right. But stay in the yard."

"All right!" the two shouted, before each raced to find an appropriately long "sword" to play Knights with. "I want to be my dad, the courageous Dagonet!" Lucan declared, waving a length of wood at his new companion.

"That's all right! I want to be Arthur! The great leader and mighty commander!" Accolon laughed, his own "sword" smacking against Lucan's as the two reenacted a "Knightly" swordfight.

Morgaine laughed lightly to watch the children start sword fighting. "Children, Sir Dagonet and King Arthur are on the same side."

"Oh right," Lucan remembered, both boys seeming downcast.

Dagonet moved away from the women and crouched before them. "We're on the same side. But we do spar against each other. And neither one of us tries to hurt the other when we fight. So be careful all right?" he asked, whispering in a stage whisper.

Bergisa and Morgaine looped their arms through Michelle's, Morgaine murmuring, "So? Will he do for a husband?"

Michelle watched this charming man play with their sons for a moment and looked at the raven-haired woman at her side. "Yes, Morgaine. I would be very happy to marry a man as kind-hearted as he. You have my permission to make the match with the King. I know you need his permission first."

"I'll have it. Arthur could never deny me anything." Morgaine confessed gleefully, her hands clasping happily, "Consider yourself betrothed, my friend."

Michelle smiled, accepting the other two women's hard hugs. "Thank you, Morgaine. You and Bergisa have been so kind to me and my children."

"That's what friends are for, Michelle." Bergisa reminded her with a smile, "That's what friends are for."

Later that afternoon, Dagonet and Michelle finally separated the two new "best friends forever" before Bergisa, Morgaine and Dagonet began the lengthy trip back to the Palace Camelot. Bergisa and Morgaine's elbows were linked together as they walked, Dagonet on Morgaine's unoccupied side. "So, what did you think of her?"

"She's amazing. Raising a son and two daughters on her own. And the girls were precious."

"Denae and Maria are, indeed, very well behaved." Bergisa agreed, before Morgaine nibbled on her lower lip, taking up where Bergisa left off, "Michelle needs a man though. Someone to support and take care of her."

Dagonet chuckled. "I know that tone of voice. I would be honored to marry her. I know I need Arthur's permission first. But if I receive it, I will ask her tomorrow."

"Good. You would suit her well I think. And Accolon adores you already. You're his new hero. And he and Lucan are already best friends. There won't be any troublesome transitions. I'll give you both a couple years to get to know each other before I kick you down the aisle, I promise."

Dagonet nodded. "Thank you. I would like to get to know her more, before I do anything I might regret."

Morgaine nodded, slipping through the gate and immediately seeing her two men. They both were decked out in light armor, with Galahad in his kilt. Morgaine looked up at her escort as both men began to dismount. Dagonet, having seen what she had seen, nodded. "I'm going to go and see Arthur."

"I'll be up to add my recommendation before the night is over," she reassured him, before Dagonet and Lucan disappeared into the palace, Bergisa hugging her pregnant friend and moving off to find her brother, Tristan.

Coming to the stable doors, she stood silent as she watched them for a moment. They were laughing together, reminiscing over previous missions and other memories as they brushed down their steeds. Eventually, she decided to make her presence known. "So, no injuries I hope?" she teased, coming further into the dark recesses of the barn.

They turned to her, smiling happily to see her there. "None. I promised that we would be careful, Nazneen," Galahad chuckled, putting Dar away in his stall and spreading a handful of oats in amongst the horse's usual hay. "There you go, boy. You deserved it," he murmured, rubbing the stallion's neck soothingly.

"Gods be praised." Morgaine commented dryly in response to Galahad's answer, before continuing curiously, "I think Vanora has supper ready. Should I wait for you?"

"We're coming, Lady," Gawain insisted, moving forward to take his place on her left side, his arm wrapping around her waist gently. His free hand came to rest on her belly and she smiled up at him. Though Gawain loved Archie as much as he would love his own child, Morgaine knew that the blonde wished for a child of his own as well. And so, Morgaine wished with him.

With all her heart.

When Morgaine's child was born, they named the little girl "Sanora," which meant "Kitten" in Arabic. She was bald and had the same cobalt blue eyes of any newborn child. But as the child grew older, the newborn blue faded into the beautiful sky blue of her father.

Gawain.


	50. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

An: Kindly words for my Kindly Reviewers.

Lilstrummrgrl527: I'm glad you were amused by Tristan's actions. I know a new father and that's how he is, so I thought I'd incorporate. And I totally sympathize with Gawain? Wouldn't you be worried if someone you knew was always morose and sulky was suddenly always happy? I would be! That's not normal. And Gawain has a baby! Yay for Gawain!

:op: Yes you have to give him back! I can hear Morgaine sharpening Lancelot's old blades on a grinding wheel. You've already had him for three days! I told you! Very jealous girl! ;)

Natalie: I'm glad you like it.

Evendstar-mor2004: Yep! I mentioned you! I mention you more soon, I promise. And I'm glad you like the names! They are, after all, your children. ;)

Babak: Yes! You're an aunt! And Morgaine is a mommy! And, most importantly, **DAGONET IS GOING TO MARRY MICHELLE**! Yeah! Thank you. They do make a good team, don't they? ;) Bergisa is eventually going to want to kill her because of Lancelot, but she gets over it. J/K.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Be happy for everybody. Except Lance. He is going to get his butt kicked today, figuratively speaking.

ZELINIA: Yes, he has a kid. But think about it this way, I never write anything, like some other people do. You just know they're together. That's it. That's good. blink blink Isn't it? I'm glad you like my new and improved Tristan. He's a father and husband now! Cold-hearted killer is no longer allowed.

And now, because I'm really nifty…..

Chapter Fifty

Sanora's hair grew smooth like silk, long and golden, framing her heart-shaped face in waves. Her fathers adored her, as most fathers adore their daughters. But at night, when Sanora had been fed and lain in her bassinet, Morgaine would witness Gawain's true love for his child. Galahad would climb into bed with her, sprawling out on her right side as his usual custom. But Gawain would stand at the cradle and stare down at the miracle he had sired on the woman he loved, as the tiny girl slumbered away the night on her belly.

After he looked his fill of her cherubic features, his hands would reach down to touch the fragile crown of her head and re-tuck her in. Then he would climb into bed and bury his face in his wife's chest, thanking her a million times in a minute for his beautiful daughter. And Morgaine would stroke her hands through his hair -silent but soothing- before the three would fall asleep until Sanora awoke to be fed.

It was a nightly ritual that never failed to humble the Sarmatian mother and wife.

The child's first year passed and one day found Galahad and Gawain riding out on another mission. Bergisa, her usual companion, was also unavailable, busy in the village on her own chore. So, knowing that she enjoyed her walks, Lancelot offered to keep Morgaine company on her walk into town. Almost five year old Archie dashed in and out of the booths, Lancelot following him to keep him out of any significant trouble. Sanora was sitting on her mother's hip, wide blue eyes trying to take in everything all at once. Her blond hair had been braided into a simple plait and it swished back and forth across her shoulders as her head turned to and fro in an attempt to see everything. Morgaine stopped at a booth full of fabric and embroidery silks. "Pretty, Momma," Sanora whispered, reaching to touch the soft material.

Morgaine smiled, hugging her daughter tighter for a moment, just before she heard a loud cry of "Ow!"

Morgaine turned quickly, the healer in her trying to see what was going on and whether there were any serious injuries. A woman was sprawled on her back with Lancelot standing over her. Obviously Lancelot had been following Archie on another wild escapade, and neither he, or the woman he had collided with, had seen the other. "I am so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going," he apologized gallantly, trying to help her to her feet.

"Watch where you're going, you clumsy oaf!" she snapped, slapping his hand away.

Lancelot's eyes widened at the angry tone, stumbling back in surprise as the woman, who he now recognized as Bergisa, hauled herself to her feet. The two of them had a rare relationship, based on fights and arguments, but he would never have wanted to harm her. Bending over, Bergisa snatched up the basket from where it had no doubt fallen in the collision. "I said I was sorry," Lancelot began, trying to help her pick up the fallen pieces of fruit.

"Oh, just leave me alone!" she hissed, shoving him bodily into the mud.

Pushing the veil from her head, Morgaine stepped from the shadows and cleared her throat, "You're out of line, Bergisa."

She whirled to snap at the voice, before her eyes widened at the sight of her self-composed best friend standing there. Morgaine was small and elfin, even for a twenty year old woman, barely coming up to Galahad's collarbone, but she always seemed to exude power from every pore of her body. She wore a baby-blue sateen gown that Gawain had given her for her 18th birthday that perfectly matched her eyes and the gleaming silver coronet across her forehead, that had previously been hidden by sheer material, proclaimed her as King Arthur's beloved and formidable sister, known interchangeably to the locals as "The Wise One " or "Merlin's Dark Child." The Dark Child was also constantly antagonizing her about Lancelot.

"Your Highness," she gasped, bowing in respect. In private, they were the inseparable best friends, Bergisa and Morgaine. In public, they were my Lady and Her Highness. It was the way of Camelot's world.

Morgaine looked from one to the other, "Bergisa, what happened?" she asked, sighing resignedly.

"Your Knight knocked me over, Your Highness," Bergisa replied, defiantly, her chin held high and amber eyes flashing.

"That may be, but Sir Lancelot is only trying to apologize. Be gracious and accept the apology," Morgaine encouraged.

Bergisa, her cheeks flaming, nodded and turned to Lancelot. "I am sorry for my rudeness. I accept your apology."

Lancelot shook his head. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, I'm fine," she snapped viciously, before checking her venom at the Dark Child's cocked eyebrow.

"I don't believe you two have ever been formally introduced, have you? You argue incessantly, but I don't think you were ever properly introduced. Instead, you just seem to have a rare hatred for one another. Bergisa lives in a cottage at the edge of the village, Lance. She's my dearest friend. Like Tristan, she enjoys her privacy. Bergisa, this is Sir Lancelot. Lance, this is Lady Bergisa, Tristan's baby sister." Morgaine remarked, introducing them quickly.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Bergisa."

"I should say so," she muttered inaudibly, before curtsying, "Nice to meet you. Your Highness….Sir," she murmured demurely, scampering away.

Morgaine watched her go, her eyes sparkling with the feel for a match. "Are you all right, Lance?" she inquired, concerned by her brother's confusion. "Did you hit your head when she pushed you?"

Lancelot shook his head, scooping up Archie as he came scampering. "Uncle Lance?" the child inquired, looking at his uncle solemnly.

"I'm fine, Archie. Really, Morgaine, I'm okay." Coming back to walk beside his sister the two continued through the marketplace.

"If I had to make a stab in the dark, I'd have to say that the two of you started off on the wrong foot all those years ago. And that little escapade didn't seem to help matters either." Morgaine observed.

"Gee, you think." Lancelot remarked snidely, tossing the slight little boy into the sky.

Morgaine glared at him, causing his shoulders to hunch and his face to mold into sheepish lines. "Sorry, my lady."

Morgaine nodded and engaged her daughter's attention in the flowers growing on the path. It was silent for a moment and then, "She's beautiful."

"No."

Morgaine only smiled, protesting halfheartedly. "No, what? I didn't say anything! I only commented that she is beautiful. Which she is!"

"You already knew she was beautiful. You said yourself, she's your best friend." Lancelot pointed out. "You're playing matchmaker again. Don't you have someone else to torture and annoy? Oh I remember, you have Dagonet to find a wife for."

Morgaine smiled, reminded of gentle Dagonet and her nephew, his adoptive son Lucan. She had already found a woman for the tender leviathan. A widow, Michelle, whose husband had died of the deadly plague years ago. She and her three bairns needs someone to support them, and Dagonet was the perfect person to do so. The giant adored the woman -and her children, two little girls and a boy- and Lucan got on with them well too. He and Michelle's eldest child, Accolon, were best friends and, most days, hopelessly inseparable.

Rolling her eyes at her adoptive brother, Morgaine reminded him quietly, "If you'll recall, I already found Dagonet a bride. Michelle was my choice for Dagonet, and Arthur agreed to it. They suit well together. They both are quiet and gentle. Lucan adores her, and gets on with her children. So Dagonet is already taken care of. And what's more, you know it. You're the only one left. And finding you a bride is starting to become a thorn in my side," she muttered in frustration. "Even Jols is happily betrothed."

Lancelot grinned rakishly in triumph, before slumping again. "Could you please let me choose my own wife?" Lancelot whined, following her over to the booth where they sold candles and oils.

"Lance, if I let you choose your own bride, you'd never marry," she reminded him, pointing at a tall hourly day-candle and then holding up three fingers.

The shopkeeper took down three of the stout candles and wrapped them up. "Thank you," she murmured, taking them and slipping them into the bag at her waist, before hitching her daughter up higher on her hip. Changing the subject, she inquired of her daughter, "Are you hungry, my little Princess? Do you want some sweetbread? It's a beautiful day. And what's a beautiful day without a sweet treat?" Sanora nodded at her mother, her eyes wide. "Okay, let's go find a sweetbread vendor. What about you, Archie? You want some sweetbread?"

"Yes please!" Archie cried, nodding before laughing at his uncle's distressed look. "Uncle Lance, you look silly," he giggled.

Lancelot crossed his eyes at the boy and nibbled at the boy's cheek, causing a joyous squeal. Morgaine touched Lancelot's arm, smiling at him kindly. "Don't worry about it, Lance," she encouraged, before her eyes sparkled with mischief, "As soon as I get Dagonet married, I'll start worrying about your marital status."

"Great," Lancelot remarked dryly.

They stopped at the sweetbread vendor and Morgaine dished a coin out of her purse, buying each of her children a piece of the soft, sugary pastry. Walking back to the castle, Morgaine set Sanora down and held her hand as they walked back up the path. Sanora and Archie soon engaged Lancelot in a rousing game of tag, the two children squealing with laughter. As she was leaving, she heard a new kind of screams. Whirling in fear, she felt her heart slow at the sight of Gawain tossing his tiny, adoring daughter high into the air. The little girl squealed with laughter, her hair flying and arms out as she soared, before Gawain caught her and threw her up into the sky again. He and Galahad had apparently just returned from their mission and were joining Lancelot in entertaining the children. Galahad looked up and saw Morgaine. _"Go on,"_ he mouthed, waving her away, _"We've got them. Enjoy some time for yourself."_

Smiling at him, she blew a kiss at first him and then a smirking Gawain, who had just noticed the presence of their wife. Leaving them to entertain her children for a moment, she disappeared toward the Chamber of the Round Table and entered without so much as a "by your leave". Arthur was in his usual chair, surrounded by paperwork. "I've found Lancelot a wife!" she announced without preliminaries.

Arthur looked up at his sister, startled, before realizing what it was that she had just said. Since the success of Tristan's marriage, it had been decided that Morgaine -as Court Advisor- would find brides for the Knights, and then get Arthur's permission on each one. Arthur had too much to do as it was, and Guinevere had her own responsibilities to attend to. Lancelot was the one Knight his sister couldn't find an appropriate wife for, and to hear her announce -out of the blue- that she had found him a suitable bride was something of a surprise. Leaning forward onto his elbows, he asked incredulously, "You've what!"

"I found him a wife. I can't believe I didn't see it before. Who better than Bergisa? She hates him. She's perfect."

"How is that 'perfect'?" Arthur asked, before tacking on a puzzled, "Just out of curiosity."

"She's stubborn and she doesn't think he walks on air. She's not one of those bimbos that he usually goes for. She's a spitfire, first of all, and secondly, she'd be good for him," Morgaine declared.

"Okay, not following. Rhiannon, your judgment is usually pretty sound. But I don't get it."

"She's not at all impressed with him. She's perfect! In fact, she might one day be tempted to murder him in his sleep if his eyes drift to another woman. She could make him monogamous! Oh joy!"

Arthur missed the whole point of the comment, remarking, "I don't want to wake up one morning and find out that my best knight is dead, tangled in his wife's bloodied sheets." Morgaine cocked an eyebrow at the statement, before Arthur waved it away and continued, "Could we -**perhaps**- come up with a more pleasant reason for marrying the two of them off to one another?" he inquired, looking back down at his paperwork before he had another, slightly more disturbing thought, and glancing up at her again, "And what are you going to do about Tristan?"

"I'm sure I can think of something," she called, turning and flouncing out of the room like a child released from its chores, hair and skirts swaying behind her gaily.

"I worry about her," Arthur muttered, apprehensively before returning his attention to his paperwork.

Guinevere offered to help Morgaine after hearing about her announcement from her husband that night. And the next day, the invitation to become one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting was sent to none other than the beautiful and defiantly independent Bergisa.


	51. Chapter 51

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly Words for my Kindly Reviewers.

dw: I'm glad you like her. And don't worry too much about Lancelot. He gives out exactly what he gets. I hope you like this chapter. It's pretty funny, for the most part. And I feel bad, I had updated before your review for 49 came up! And I'm glad you feel like a kid at Christmas. It's what I was going for.

Babak: I'm glad you like Sanora! I love Sanora! And I really don't know what more you could ask for. And I know Bergisaa seems mean, but think about it this way; remember in Kindergarten and the little boys would pull your hair because they liked you? And like I told dw, Lancelot gives it out as much as she dishes it. He can handle himself, that's for sure. That's kinda what this is. On both sides of the issue. And yes, he adores Morgaine's children. You have to give him brownie points for that at least.

Andromahke: Yes, he is BETROTHED! About time! I'm so happy! I'm glad you like this relationship. It's been fun for me to write. And I'm glad you liked his love for her. It was an inspiring part to write. I felt myself tear up a bit.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yes, finally! I know exactly how you feel! And I wrote it, for crying out loud! And yes, Bergisa is perfect. You'll just have to wait and see though. ;)

HGandRHForever: Yes, (bows to your accolades) I, GalahadsGurl, have the greatest! J/K ;) They are going to be together, but neither is initially going to be too happy about it. And I'm glad you liked the whole Tristan and Gawain parts. It pleases me to have such a good hold on my reviewers.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Wink wink. You'll just have to wait and see!

Magpie-Detonation: I'm glad you could see what I saw. And yes, its going to be an interesting relationship, to put it mildly. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Evenstar-mor2004: Yes, yes they are over! For always and forever. Although, as you'll be able to tell, Bergisa doesn't initially think so.

:op: What about me! Don't you want me anymore? I hope you like this!

Chapter Fifty-One

A week later, after Bergisa had had some time to settle into her new apartments in the Palace, Morgaine was walking with Lancelot through the halls. Seeing Bergisa come down the hallway on a make-believe chore from her fellow schemer, Guinevere, she paused. "Hold a moment….is that the Lady Bergisa?"

"Oh Gods, where?" Lancelot asked anxiously, looking around frantically so that he would know where to run and hide.

Morgaine glowered at him, slapping his shoulder in reprove. Stopping in her tracks, her head tilted to the side, giving the impression that she was listening to something only she could hear. "Wait here. I think I hear my son."

Lancelot looked down at her in horror, seeing right through her ploy. "Don't you dare!"

"I'll only be a minute. Wait here."

"You don't hear your son!" he insisted, as Morgaine took a left and started to run fleetly down the hallway. "Morgaine!" he howled after her.

"Stay there!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing from his view.

He muttered a swear word in Sarmatian that was not suited for delicate ears, before turning to come face to face with his nemesis. "Lady Bergisa. How….**_wonderful_**….to see you."

"I wish I could say the same," she muttered. "Could you move? I'm on an errand for Her Majesty."

Guinevere appeared at the end of the hallway and shouted to Bergisa, "Never mind Bergisa. Arthur brought it for me." Squinting she called innocently, "Is that Lancelot?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Why don't you see if Lady Bergisa would like to take a tour of the gardens, Lance? I don't think she's been there yet," she called, before pausing and tacking on a, "That's an order," in case he tried to flee from the situation.

Lancelot swore under his breath, his language colorful….and again in Sarmatian so he couldn't get scolded for his foul language. Bergisa hid an amused smile behind her hand at his creative phrasing. "Yes, Your Majesty," he practically growled out. Turning to the smaller woman, he plastered on a fake smile and inquired through clenched teeth, "Would you like to see the gardens?"

Bergisa, swearing equally softly at being cornered, replied snippily, "The Queen needs me."

"Oh don't worry about it, Bergisa. Take your time; I won't need you for awhile. If I need you, I'll send Viviane."

"All right, Your Majesty." Looking up at Lancelot, she replied with a shallow curtsy, "I'd love to see the Gardens." Taking Lancelot's reluctantly given arm, she allowed him to lead her away, muttering under her breath, "Just not with you."

Walking through the gardens, Lancelot pointed out various flowers and plants along the pathway. Stopping beside a fountain, out of obvious sight, Bergisa wrenched away, "I think you're a pig!"

"What've I done now?"

"I don't like you. You're a womanizing cretin. You think you can have any woman however you want them and I can't stand the sight of you! Let me tell you mister, I see right through your tricks and your ploys! I hate you, you egotistical swine!"

"So I'm a pig because you don't like me? Well, if we're talking about things to call each other just because we don't like either, I think you're a crazed tyrant!" Lancelot snapped back.

Gasping at the insult, she glowered at him and then she shoved him hard into the fountain at his back, creating a huge splash. As he came up, sputtering, she stated snidely, "We'll just see who's the tyrant."

Turning on her heel haughtily, she stumbled slightly, unprepared for the sight of a curious and complacent Morgaine, who had arrived just in time to witness the whole event. Morgaine, with her usual calm, took in the scene and then inquired of Bergisa, "What happened?"

Bergisa, putting on her most innocent look, replied simply, "He fell, my lady."

Morgaine cocked an eyebrow at her best friend. "Uh-huh. Sure he did."

Bergisa smiled serenely at the Dark Child and curtsied deeply. "If you'll excuse me, Morgaine, I need to return to Her Majesty, the Queen."

Morgaine nodded, waving her away. Bergisa tossed her head proudly and walked away, her shoulders pulled back and head held high. After the older girl was out of sight, Morgaine turned to look at the sopping Knight, eyebrows up in question. "Well, that was interesting. Care to tell me what that was all about?"

"She's insufferable," he complained, climbing out of the water and shaking his head to rid his hair of the dirty water streaming down his face in rivulets. Morgaine back-stepped, narrowly avoiding the spattering of droplets that came flying her way.

"You're being unreasonable. She's a perfectly wonderful girl. You're just being stubborn."

"She shoved me into a fountain, Morgaine! I don't think that's a sign of a 'perfectly wonderful girl'."

Morgaine rolled her eyes. "She's my best friend, remember? I think I would know if she wasn't absolutely wonderful. Come on; let's get you dried off."

Lancelot grumbled, determined to unseat the Lady Bergisa from her intolerably high horse. By any means possible.

Later that night, Arthur's chief steward came into the dining room where everyone but Arthur and Morgaine was eating. "Lady Bergisa? Sir Lancelot? His Majesty, King Arthur and Her Highness, the Princess Morgaine would like to see you both, as well as Sir Tristan."

Those summoned glanced at each other before wiping their mouths and following the steward to Arthur's private office. Arthur sat behind his desk, Morgaine standing behind him, her hand resting on the top of his chair. "Ah good, you're here. Take a seat, all of you."

Lancelot watched Arthur, noticing that Morgaine's hand slipped down his shoulder in an attempt to strengthen his resolve. "What's going on, Arthur?"

Arthur took a deep breath and then spoke, "I am officially announcing the engagement of Sir Lancelot to the Lady Bergisa."

They all stared, shocked, before Tristan spoke first, "Oh hell no!"

That seemed to break Bergisa from her trance and her eyes flashed to Morgaine. She had helped Morgaine set up two different betrothals. Bergisa was fully aware whose idea this was. "How could you?"

"Bergisa, this is for the best," Morgaine began, her eyes unapologetic and only a bit sad.

Bergisa surged to her feet, staring at the raven-haired Dark Child in horror. "But Lancelot? I can't stand him! I want to experience true love with my husband, like you have with Galahad and Gawain. Like Tristan has with Isolde."

Morgaine smiled slightly, reminding her, "Please remember, my dear Bergisa, when I betrothed my childhood playmate to Tristan, they had never met before. They learned to love one another. You will learn to love Lancelot, Bergisa, and you both will be very happy."

"No I won't and I'll be miserable! He'll spend his nights warming the beds of his barmaids and I'll spend my nights crying myself to sleep! He's a creep and a snake! I hate you, Morgaine ! I hate you!" she shouted, before running from the room.

Morgaine looked at her brother helplessly. He nodded his permission, sending Morgaine running after the elder woman, calling, "Bergisa! Wait!"

Tristan looked at Arthur, inquiring incredulously, "Tell me you're joking!"

"I am not joking, Tristan."

Lancelot had remained silent and was still staring at his best friend, before muttering, "I'm going to kill Morgaine."

Arthur stood and looked at both men sternly, before speaking firmly, "Remember this, that this decision is not entirely Morgaine's. She has to get my permission on all matches before she announces anything. So, if you're going to try and kill anyone, try and kill someone who can fight back. I have given my approval and my permission and you will marry Bergisa, Lancelot. That is final."

Lancelot got up and stormed from the room. Tristan looked at the man he called his King. "Are you sure about this? I mean Lancelot? He'll break her heart."

Arthur slumped back into his chair and looked up his trusted tracker. "I trust Rhiannon's judgment. If she says this is a good match, I'll believe her. I am not out there with you guys anymore. Rhiannon is my eyes and ears. I trust her, Tristan, all I ask is that you try and trust her as well."

Tristan looked at Arthur, seeing that this had not been an easy choice. Nodding once, he spoke, "I trust you and I trust Morgaine. Lancelot is the one I don't trust."

Leaving the room before Arthur could reply, he moved toward his room. Arthur slumped back into his chair. Looking up at the ceiling, he murmured, "I hope you know what you're doing, my darling Fire-Sister."

Morgaine caught up with her best friend in the gardens, "Bergisa, wait! Please, let me explain!"

Bergisa whirled on her best friend, her tears gleaming in the silvery moonlight. "I can't believe you would betray me like this, Morgaine! You're my best friend."

Morgaine came over to the distraught woman and took her shoulders between her hands gently. "Do you honestly think I did this just to make you miserable?"

Bergisa hiccupped and shook her head, conceding that no, she didn't think that. Morgaine continued quietly, "Would I do this just to make you unhappy? You know how much I love my two men. I would wish that for you, Bergisa, more than anything."

"Then why?" Bergisa sobbed, her hands coming up to cover her face.

"Come, sit with me for a moment," Morgaine asked, gesturing toward a bench among some winter roses. Bergisa sat down, the two women linking hands. "I did this because you're well suited to him. You're not willing to let him get away with anything. It's not how you work. I need someone I know and trust to get that man to settle down."

Bergisa moaned, "Does it have to be me?"

Morgaine thought for a moment, her fingers stroking over the flesh on the back of Bergisa's hand. "I'll make you a deal. Dry your eyes sweetheart," she encouraged, reaching up to wipe away the tears, "there could be an escape at the end of the tunnel."

Bergisa watched her best friend, as Morgaine spoke. "I won't have Arthur announce it yet. I'll give you two years."

"Two years? To do what?" Bergisa asked with a sniff, brushing her cheeks with the back of her wrist.

"If you find a man in the next two years who you really and truly love, Bergisa, I'll find another bride for Lance. Two years, Bergisa. That's all. And if, in two years, you haven't found a husband on your own, Arthur will announce your engagement and you will marry Lancelot. Are we agreed?"

Looking at her best friend, Bergisa realized that this was as good as she was going to get. "All right, two years."

"Good. Now dry your eyes before Tristan kills me for making you cry. You're my best friend, Bergisa, and if you can find someone who will make you truly happy, I'll leave this match alone."

Bergisa nodded and hugged the other woman tightly, "Thank you, Morgaine, you won't regret this."

Morgaine sighed and hugged her back, smoothing her hair back behind her ear. "I hope not."


	52. Chapter 52

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Take a deep breath honey! And yes, I agree, they're perfect for each other. That's why Morgaine is not going to give up on her scheming so easily. Patience, young grasshopper, and all things shall come to fruition in their own due time.

:op: You realize that Morgaine is chopping me into little bits because she can't get at you, right? Pretty soon I'm going to be dead and the story will remain unfinished. Please, give him back! She's going to kill me over here.

Babak: I know! Men, they don't know what they're talking about most of the time. No offense to any men who are currently reading my story. And yes, that's kinda what I thought Tristan's reaction would be like. After all, he's shared a barracks with Lancelot for fifteen years and he knows what she's like. Bergisa is his only remaining family. Everyone loved that part though. ;) And I don't know, what does Lancelot have up his sleeve? Dun dun dun. And of course Morgaine and Bergisa made up! I can't have the best friends hating each other! They're best friends!

Andromahke: I'm glad you loved that chapter. Tristan's reaction was pretty hilarious, huh? I hope you like this chapter as well.

lilstrummrgrl527: Thank you, thank you, I am rolling gleefully in the accolades. Glad you liked it. I hope you like this chapter as well.

dw: Thank you too! Not yet, but soon.

Magpie-Detonation: Happy Keester Easter right back at ya! And yes, though Morgaine is younger, she always seems older because of the things she has seen and done in her life. I hope you continue to like their growing relationship.

ZELINIA: I hope you like this chapter. There's a blatant reference to the actual legend of "Tristan and Yseult" (which for all of you who don't know, how you actually spell "Isolde" in the legends. I like my spelling better. It's easier to read ;).)

HGandRHForever: I'm sorry! Don't hate Morgaine! And Gawain's daughter is called Sanora. They have a bonding moment earlier in the chapter. Gawain is her hero. Thanks for the cybercookies! They were yummy.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Later that week, everyone was gathered in the main hall. Bergisa had let a secret about Tristan slip to his wife and Isolde pestered him until he confessed. He had an unusually beautiful voice for one so silent, as well as a marked talent on a lyre. And so, Tristan had been called upon many nights after supper to sing to them. The Knights and their Ladies, the King and Queen, as well the Queen's various ladies-in-waiting, were scattered about the room, on cushions and settees, grouped together in pairs or trios. Lancelot and Bergisa, with some artful maneuvering by Guinevere, had been seated next to each other and were bickering heatedly under their breaths throughout the entire performance. After Tristan was done, Galahad questioned from where he lay, his head in his wife's lap and her fingers threading through his hair, "So, did anyone else hear the two of them, or was it just me?"

Bergisa blushed as the rest of the hall threw in their agreement. Gawain chuckled in his goblet, sipping on his ale, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were besotted with one another."

They both whirled at the same time and shouted identically, "We are not!"

Gawain laughed, adjusting his daughter's slumbering body as she slumped against her father's body, seeking warming body heat from being closer to her Papa. "Sure you're not."

Everyone chuckled at their half-horrified, half-puzzled looks. They studiously avoided looking at each other, promising murder with their eyes as they glared at Gawain. Tristan's eyes, however, were promising murder at Lancelot's oblivious form. "Did I just agree with her?" Lancelot asked Arthur, to which the King could only nod, barely suppressed laughter causing a very undignified snort.

"I didn't just agree with him, did I, Morgaine?" Bergisa begged, gripping Morgaine's hand in a death-grip, remembering her pact with the Princess.

"I'm afraid so, Bergisa." Morgaine soothed sympathetically, leaning back languidly against the left side of Gawain's back.

The two combatants glanced at each other, their eyes meeting briefly, before they looked away resolutely once more. Morgaine chuckled, unable to help herself. They both looked so distressed by the very idea of agreeing with each other that she almost couldn't hold in her laughter. "If you'll excuse me, my King?" she begged, her sides hurting with the effort of restraining herself from laughing in their faces. It would be rude. But it was just so hard not to.

"Of course, sister. Get some air, you look sort of pale." Arthur teased.

Morgaine glared at her brother and practically dashed from the room. She didn't even make it out of hearing range before she burst into a torrent of laughter. Galahad and Gawain, unable to hold it in any longer, followed her example and soon the entire hall, with the obvious exceptions, was rolling with amusement. Bergisa and Lancelot glared at Gawain, the original progenitor of the statement, and stood up, storming from the Great Hall in opposite directions. Galahad slapped his best friend on the back, chuckling, "Good job, Gawain. I think you just played them perfectly into Nazneen's hands."

Gawain shrugged nonchalantly. "Glad to have been of service. Is anyone else amused by this? They're perfect for each other. Bergisa is not at all ladylike and she's constantly pushing at him, infuriating him just by her presence. And despite that fact, Lancelot is fascinated by her, although you'd have to come up with some serious ingenuities in torture in order to get him to admit that."

Arthur chuckled, "Rhiannon told me she thought Bergisa was perfect for Lancelot, and though I trusted her judgment, I didn't believe her. I think I might have to just believe her more often." The rest of the Hall burst into laughter, before they dispersed for the evening.

Galahad and Gawain found themselves waylaid outside the room by an agitated Lancelot. "What was that in there?" Lancelot demanded.

Gawain cocked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, Lance?"

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "You know of what I speak! I don't have to marry her!"

"Yet," Galahad reminded him dryly.

Turning their backs on the elder Knight, the two moved away toward their own bedchamber. Gawain shifted his daughter in his arms, her head shifting against his neck as she murmured nonsense. Galahad was carrying Archie and they glanced at each other, their voices down as Galahad muttered, "So, do you think Bergisa's going to find another husband?"

Gawain laughed slightly. "With Morgaine determined to marry the two of them off? Not a chance in Hell."

Three months later, Dagonet of Sarmatia married the shy and pretty Michelle of Britain. They were good for one another. Smiling and serene, they exchanged vows and when they kissed, everything laughed as their children cheered loudly. Arthur was the first to congratulate them on their marriage. Coming over, Arthur held out a hand to his friend. "Congratulations, Dag."

Dagonet, grinning at his new bride, nodded at his Friend and Sovereign. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur nodded once, hands tightening before turning to Michelle. She smiled at her King, her hand linked with Dagonet's casually, accepting his congratulations gracefully. Morgaine rushed forward after Arthur stepped back. "Oh, Michelle! I'm so happy for you!" she gushed, throwing her arms around the gentle woman.

Michelle hugged the exuberant princess back, marveling at the shining eyes and wide grin. She suddenly looked her age; unexpectedly just a beautiful young girl who had been forced to grow up too soon. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Morgaine laughed, holding the older woman away from her. "Michelle, you're my dear friend. And you and I will be spending quite a bit of time together. Among my friends, I am only Morgaine."

Michelle nodded with a smile, before the two squealed like children, hugging each other tightly. Sanora tugged on her father's hair, causing Gawain to look down at her. "What's wrong Nora?"

"Momma's acting silly."

Gawain nodded, laughing lightly, "Yes, my Little Princess, Momma is acting very silly."

Morgaine heard that statement and rounded on her lover. Narrowing her eyes at him playfully, she ordered, "You be good."

"Yes, Your Highness," he taunted, smirking at her as she sashayed over to where her tiny family stood as the rest of the Knights and their Ladies swarmed the newly wedded couple.

Morgaine glowered up at her blond-headed husband, before smiling ad coming over to stand between her Knights, both of them leaning forward to kiss her temples. Galahad was holding Archie on his hip, while Sanora snuggled against her father. "Well, seven down….," she sighed, before turning to look at Lancelot, "….one more to go."


	53. Chapter 53

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers. I know that I updated late, so I forgive all of you who haven't reviewed yet. I hope you like both chapters. ;)

lilstrummrgrl527: Yep, although today comes the major portion of their arguing. It's so funny! (Does a happy dance) That's okay, I like the image of Galahad in a kilt too, so I'm glad you requested it. (Hmm, squishy Galahad thoughts. blink blink. I'm okay.)

:op: THANK YOU! She's much happier now. And Gawain, I'm sorry to say, has missed her. They're in my room together, right now…"catching up," shall we say? giggle giggle I'm glad you liked the chapter.

Babak: Today is the best part for your character! I love this chapter! It's my favorite. Well, almost favorite. But that's beside the point! I'm getting off point. The tavern! ;) I'll let you read and either kill me or praise me later.

Evenstar-mor2004: I'm afraid I feel bad for neither. They dish it out as the give it. And yes, Dagonet will have a child of his own. I hope "Michelle" won't mind. He has several, in fact.

ZELINIA: You're right. But I didn't want to go into the whole major mess of it. In the legends, Tristan plays the lyre –or as it was later known, the harp- and I wanted it in my story. So I put it in. Artistic license, thank you very much. (Big grin!)

Natalie: Glad you liked. Hope you continue to like.

Anyone I missed, I'm sorry and look forward to reading your reviews.

And so, without any further ado from me….

Chapter Fifty-Three

As the next two years passed, her "Final Project" continued to stubbornly resist their feelings for each other, while Tristan tried valiantly not to kill his brother-in-arms. About six months into the plan, the two were arguing again, rather loudly, over some minor infraction that had occurred. Bergisa had been keeping an eye on Viviane and her new little sister, Igraine -named for Arthur's mother- as Arthur and Guinevere enjoyed a responsibility-free night with just the two of them. Candles had been tipped over by accident and the flames had nearly scorched Lancelot as he and Gawain ran in to rescue the trapped woman and children. They had, in fact, given Gawain a burn running behind his shoulder and down his upper arm where a heated candlestick had fallen across his back. Bergisa had begrudgingly thanked Lancelot and received a snarky reply in return, thus sparking another fight. Morgaine, already concerned about her own husband, stormed toward them, shouting, "Enough!"

Looking bashful, their heads dropped as Morgaine sent her withering gaze at them both. "Listen to you! You're both acting like children. My gods! My Sanora is more grown up than the two of you. Bergisa, thank him for his help.

Bergisa started to protest, before rethinking it as Morgaine's eyes blazed. Speaking softly, she replied, "Thank you, Sir Lancelot."

Morgaine nodded and turned to Lancelot. "And Lancelot, Bergisa just thanked you for your assistance. What do you say?"

Lancelot kicked at the ground, looking remarkably like Archie when he was in trouble, before muttering, "You're welcome."

Morgaine nodded, "Excellent. Not a single argument. Nothing rude or inconsiderate said. Now, go your separate ways and think about how stupid you're being! I feel like your mothers!"

The two obediently disappeared down different corridors, as Galahad and Gawain melted from the shadows at Morgaine's left. The two followed her to the infirmary where Morgaine spread a thick green paste over the angry red mark on Gawain's body, soothing the burn and pain of the injury. Watching them, her curly-haired husband asked quietly, "Why are we doing this again?"

There was a pregnant pause as Morgaine considered an appropriate answer, her hands flying undisturbed as she bandaged the wound. Finally she gave up, snapping, "Don't ask stupid questions, or you can find somewhere else to sleep."

Chuckling at her response, or lack thereof, Galahad didn't question it again, deciding just to sit back and enjoy the show. And what a show it was.

Those two years of perpetual arguments and bickering were nothing, if not amusing. Lancelot and Bergisa fought over everything, the specter of their upcoming betrothal looming with every day, while Gawain wholly enjoyed being the bad guy that usually started a fight. He was constantly goading them, forcing them to admit that they did indeed agree on some things. And their reactions to their reluctant agreements were just as hilarious then as they had been that first day in the Great Hall.

On the anniversary of their release from Roman rule, the Knights generally traveled up to the old Wall and gathered around a table in the tavern there. This year, they took the women along as well. Bergisa, determined not to let Lancelot bother her even once, spent most of the evening sitting next to Morgaine. The Sarmatian Princess was with child again and the two friends were jabbering on about potential baby names.

It was about halfway into the night, when a handsome young soldier called Melinus joined them at their table. Galahad immediately felt antsy, move to get up so he could rescue his wife, before settling back as she shook her head with a small smile. Galahad watched her curiously for a second, before Bergisa's laughter floated through the air and Lancelot's face across the table became set with jealousy. He caught it immediately. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, chuckling into his jug.

Gawain and the rest of the Knights looked up at him, their cards forgotten for the moment. "Excuse me?" Gawain asked, tossing in a coin to raise the confident Tristan at his side.

Calling him, Galahad tossed his hand of Full Colors, the highest you could get in this particular card game, onto the table to a chorus of groans. Scooping up his winnings and stuffing them into the pouch at his waist, he looked up at Gawain. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked politely, before grabbing his best friend and retreating to the shadows.

Gawain watched him as his best friend leaned against the wall, sipping on his ale and watching their wife. "Can I inquire what that was all about? Damn it, and will you stop winning!"

"I'm just starting to get lucky," Galahad remarked casually, before gesturing with his head at the table where Morgaine still sat with Bergisa and her obvious admirer. "What do you see?"

Gawain watched the scene, "Nothing. People getting drunk." Pausing, he saw it, "And our Lady, plotting again. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. I thought she had a sign marked, 'Lancelot's Bride' stamped on Bergisa's forehead. What are they doing with that soldier?"

"Nazneen does have 'Lancelot's Bride' stamped across Bergisa's forehead. Look at Lance," Galahad ordered, the jug hiding the bottom of his face as he struggled to hold in a grin.

Gawain choked at the jealously that colored Lancelot's dark eyes almost black. "Oh, well played, Lady, well played indeed."

The two started to laugh then, unable to help it. Staying where they were, they were provided with the perfect view of anything that Lancelot chose to do. And based on the growing fury on Lancelot's face, it wouldn't be long before he did something. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Throwing down his cards, he got up and stormed past their table. Grabbing Bergisa by the upper arm, he dragged her protesting from the tavern and into the night. Tristan got up to go after them, but Morgaine's hand on his shoulder as it pinched a painful nerve kept him in his seat. Her blue eyes flicked to the corner where she knew her Knights were standing. Gesturing toward the door with her head, she got a short nod from Galahad.

The curly-haired Warrior finished his ale and then followed the two unseen into the night, Bergisa's screams and angry threats giving him a hint as to where they were headed. Gawain stayed where he was, keeping an eye on the Dark Child in case she needed help with Tristan. Though, from where he was standing, it looked like she had everything under control.

Bergisa finally managed to break away from Lancelot's grip, her right hand coming back and almost connecting painfully with his face. Lancelot hand came up, quicker than a shot and caught her wrist before she made tactile contact. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You are not to talk to that man again," he ordered, before turning back toward the tavern.

Bergisa glared, her temper boiling. Her hands clenched and if she had been filled with water, there would have been steam gushing from her ears. "Oh really? And who are you, Mr. High-n-Mighty, to tell whom I may and may not talk to? You're not my father or my brother or my husband. I'll have you know that Melinus is a kind and courteous young man, nothing at all like you! And Morgaine seemed to have no problem with me talking to him. I had a chaperone, thank you, I don't need your permission to talk to a perfectly pleasant young man."

Lancelot turned back to her, "I said don't talk to him again."

"And I said, I don't care what you say, I'll talk to whomever I please. Why do you care anyway? You can't stand the sight of me. I'd think you'd be happy to hear that I would marry someone from here, move out of Camelot and out of your hair."

The very idea that she would marry anyone but him came as a shock, followed on swift wings by a startling sense of possession and jealousy. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her up so that they were nose to nose, his lips tantalizingly close to her own. "I said, don't," he growled, before pushing her away and moving toward the stables.

Bergisa watched him go, before muttering to herself, "If I didn't know any better," she mused, before reminding herself sternly, "-which I do-" Trying to forget her original thought, she berated herself firmly for a moment, before she slipped back into a hazy daydream, murmuring, "I'd almost say…." there was a sigh and she watched after him longingly, "I'd almost say he cared."

Galahad, from his place of concealment on the battlements, had heard the entire exchange, as well as the muttered Sarmatian professions of frustration and desire Lancelot had confided to the night-sky as he stormed away. Dropping into a crouch, his elbows balanced on his knees, he watched a happily humming Bergisa, wrapped in what she thought was unseen thoughts about Lancelot, walk back to the tavern unaccompanied. Standing with a small smile, he brushed the dirt from his hands as he mused, "This could get…..eventful."


	54. Chapter 54

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: First off, I want to tell you all how sorry I am. I am sooooo late. Forgive me, please? And second, Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

The green lama: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you like the story. And yeah, it was moving slow. And then things start to get interesting. I hope you continue to read and review. I like getting new people.

Natalie: I don't know. Is he? ;)

:op: I'm glad you liked. Morgaine said to tell you thank you for returning her husband.

Evenstar-mor2004: I'm glad my chapter helped to brighten your day. I hope this chapter does the same.

WindsHeart: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you like it. And yeah, you can't have King Arthur without some of the myths thrown in from time to time. I hope you continue to read.

HGandRHForever: You really make my day with your reviews sweetie. Thank you for the compliment, by the way. (Gives a little bow) I loved the cybercookies too! They were yummy!

lilstrummrgrl527: Now wait one second! Don't get ahead of yourself. (Don't tell anyone, but you're right! ;) giggle giggle) And yep, another baby. Hope you don't mind. ;)

Maeghan: Welcome to the Party! And yes, it was a Battlestar Galactica reference. You weren't supposed to know that. BG is my favorite TV show ever. I'm mucho sad that the season finale is tomorrow night. I don't know what I'm going to do without it. I hope you continue to like this story.

Babak: Hey sweetie! I'm glad you're not going to kill me. And come on, you know Bergisa (and me) better than that. When has she ever listened to anything that Lancelot had to say to her. And yes, Morgaine actually set it up. ;)

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I hope you like this story. Today, their relationship gets interesting.

dw: I hope you continue to like where I'm going with them. They make me very happy.

ZELINIA: Glad you liked it. Continue to read. I hope you got my email.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Returning to the tavern, Galahad showed himself briefly in the doorway. Catching sight of him, Morgaine nodded once and then let go of Tristan. He raced out, nearly crashing into Bergisa as she showed up outside the tavern. "Are you all right?"

Slammed out of her daydream, she looked up at her brother. "Why wouldn't I be all right, Tristan?"

Drawing her close, he called over his shoulder to his wife, "Isolde? Let's go home, it's late."

Isolde joined her husband, smiling at the wistful look on her sister-in-law's face. Tristan, typical male, was oblivious, but she could see that Bergisa's thoughts were firmly fixed on a certain curly-haired and chocolate eyed Knight. Reaching over, she touched the girl's arm. "Are you all right, Bergisa?"

Knowing that Isolde could see where her thoughts lay, Bergisa blushed lightly and looked down at the floor. Resolving to discuss this latest development with Morgaine, Isolde fell silent and followed her husband and sister-in-law to the stables where their horses were put up.

Morgaine and Gawain joined Galahad outside, Morgaine practically beaming. Though when Galahad didn't say anything, her impatience made itself known. "Well, tell me everything!"

"She's definitely in love with him, Morgaine. And, even if he won't admit it to anyone -not even himself- he is besotted with her. I think it frustrates him that he's so enamored with her and he doesn't understand why that is," he said, slipping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "They're playing completely into your hands."

Gawain wrapped his arm around Morgaine's waist and kissed her temple. "When you made that deal with Bergisa, did you know that you weren't going to let her fall in love with any other man?"

"Of course," she conceded, calling over her shoulder, "Melinus! Come here!"

Just then, the soldier from the tavern came over, smiling lightly. "Your Highness." He greeted her, bowing slightly.

"Gawain….Galahad, I want you to meet Melinus. My secret weapon."

Galahad was the first to see it and burst into laughter. "You evil little trickster!"

Morgaine curtsied demurely, "Thank you. Thank you. I'll be here all week. I paid Melinus here to talk to Bergisa. Thus, as you saw, making Lancelot insanely jealous and having him put his foot down. And if I know Bergisa, which I do, she'll completely disregard anything Lancelot told her to do and talk to Melinus anyway. And, if I'm lucky, Lancelot will come storming in once again. Thus sparking another fight. And eventually, Lancelot and Bergisa will realize their true feelings for each other. Playing them right into my hands."

Morgaine cackled with glee as her husbands watched her in awe and more than a little pride. "That is very clever," Gawain told her.

"That's what I'm good at." Morgaine insisted with a sly smirk.

The next afternoon, Lancelot was walking through town with Galahad and Gawain -on an errand for Morgaine- when he saw Bergisa talking to Melinus. He broke away from them, grabbing Bergisa's arm as he stormed past and practically dragging her away. Stopping and whirling her around to face him, he roared, "I thought I told you not to talk to him again!"

"Oh stuff it, you pompous, egotistical, pathetic excuse for swine!" Bergisa snapped, pushing her way past him.

Lancelot wouldn't hear any of it, grabbing her arm and hauling her back before pinning her against the wall behind them, hands gentle despite their firm grip. "You listen to me now and listen to me well. You are mine! And you will not speak to anyone else."

Galahad, using the spying tricks that Tristan had taught him, was hiding in the shadows to their left. Hearing those words from Lancelot caused a wide smirk across his lips. Bergisa wrenched away, snapping right back at him. "I am not yours yet! According to my agreement with Morgaine, I still have **some** time."

Lancelot, unable to understand why it was that he was so angry, hauled her up to his lips and kissed the air from her body. While she stood there, panting heavily to regain the air he had stolen, he turned and stormed away with the final say, "Don't talk to him again."

Galahad smirked and left his hiding place, whistling happily to himself. Passing Bergisa, he bowed slightly to her, an absurd grin on his face. "Hello, Lady Bergisa. Wonderful day we're having, isn't it?"

Bergisa, still flustered, only nodded, watching him as he rejoined Gawain at the side of the road. The two smiled at each other and went to report to Morgaine. She was standing at the window of their apartments in her shift, listening to the midwife lecture her about her pregnancy. Gawain and Galahad came in and smiled at her. Morgaine grinned at them, before turning to the midwife. "Thank you, Tia. I will take what you say into account."

Tia, realizing that she was being dismissed, humphed and left the room. Gawain slumped into a chair, one leg over the armrest. Sanora, seeing that her daddy was back from wherever he had been, got up and held up her arms to be held. Gawain leaned over and pulled her into his lap. "Hello, my little Princess," he murmured, running his fingers through her sunshine colored hair.

Galahad sat down in his own chair, Archie climbing into his lap as well. Morgaine moved to her couch, reclining there on her side. Her hand trailed absently over her belly, drawing abstract nonsense on her bloated belly. "Well?"

"You were right," was all Galahad said.

At this news, Morgaine grinned. "So, the match is set and it's game-point. Anyone willing to make a guess as to who is going to be the victor?"

Nearly three weeks later, after running into Gawain and getting into another disagreement over Lancelot, Bergisa showed up at the aforementioned Knight's chamber. "Is it just me, or is Gawain having a little too much fun baiting us?"

"It's not just you." Lancelot muttered, reluctantly.

Both of them whirled as the door slammed closed and then was barred. From the outside. "Morgaine!" Lancelot roared, coming over and shoving the door hard.

It didn't even budge an inch.

Turning to the distraught young woman, he accused, "You planned this!"

Distraught quickly morphed into furious. "Me! How do I know that you didn't plan this as another way to get me into your bed?" Bergisa snapped back, starting one of their legendary arguments. "Remember? I'm wise to your maniacal schemes to try and seduce me!"

"Schemes! I wouldn't try to seduce you if my life depended on it!" Lancelot roared back, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"Good! Because I wouldn't have you if you tried!" she screamed back, heartbroken though determined not to let him know that, the flat of her hand catching him hard across the cheekbone.

Tristan looked at Morgaine as he joined her outside the door she'd just barred. "Are you sure about this? He's a rake! Thinks that all women worship him."

"Tristan, Bergisa may be your little sister, but she's also my best friend. I have it on good authority, namely my curly-haired and youngest husband, that she loves him. And that he loves her back. It is important for their relationship that they try and move past their childish arguments."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?" Tristan grumbled, his arms crossing over his chest.

Morgaine chuckled and patted the older man's arm gently. "No, Tristan, you don't have to like it. I would worry if you did."

The rest of the Knights gathered outside nonchalantly and waited to see how long it would take for the arguing to stop. It took all of an hour before they decided to wait in the empty chamber beside them. The men started up a rousing card game while the women gathered around the window and their quilting.

Eight hours after the start of the fight, there was still no sign of the end. Galahad glanced toward the window, where the women were engaged in a quilt for Morgaine's next child. She was heavily pregnant and looking more beautiful as everyday passed by. He caught Gawain's eye, noticing that he too had been watching the sable-haired and brazen Dark Child. Looking at his fellows, he inquired lowly, "How long have they been in there?"

"A little over eight hours. I'm thinking of passing them some water." Arthur confided, folding his cards in defeat. Gawain crowed in victory as he displayed Full Colors and started to sweep in the piddling coins that they had been playing with.

Somehow, Morgaine heard this confession and dropped her needlework, lunging forward despite her bulk to join them. "Don't you dare open that door! This is good for their relationship. Let them hash everything out and go from there."

The Knights held up their hands in surrender and shook their heads in denial, yielding to her determination. Though she was a woman, they all knew what their beloved Dark Child was capable of; no one was eager to spark her wrath.

Another four hours later, there was still no relenting in their argument. Morgaine finally threw up her hands in frustration. "Oh that's it! Just throw her into a wedding dress and kick her down the aisle. This is getting ridiculous!"

"I'm with Morgaine. Let them kill each other legally," Isolde agreed, nodding at the Dark Child in acknowledgement. Bergisa had already confessed, under duress, to both Isolde and Morgaine that she loved the sarcastic Knight, though she'd be damned if she admitted it aloud. She was all for Morgaine's plan to marry the two off. The two would definitely keep each other on their toes. Tristan glowered down at his wife, discomfited by the very idea. "Now, wait one moment…."

Morgaine cut him off, smiling at her friend, "Thank you, Isolde. Come on, Arthur. They've been in there for twelve hours. Alone. We can claim that she's ruined and force them to marry."

"You just want him to kill me, don't you?" Arthur asked rhetorically.

Morgaine went to protest, when suddenly there was silence on the other side of the brick wall. All eyes turned to look at the wall, startled. Leaving the room, they stared at the heavy oaken door in shock and confusion. They had become so used to the arguing that to not hear it anymore was something of a shock. "What just happened?" Dagonet asked in whisper.

"They stopped arguing," Gawain explained, just as quietly. Everyone seemed worried that to say anything too loud would break whatever pause there was and the two prisoners would go back to screaming at each other.

Morgaine turned to Tristan. "Stay here for an hour. If they haven't started arguing again, take the bar off the door carefully….make sure that they don't know you're doing it and leave them be."

"Yes, Your Highness," he agreed, reluctantly, disgruntled that he would have to play babysitter to his sister and the rake, before bowing slightly to the Princess and taking up a watchful position against the opposite wall. As he stood, he started to come up with great and elaborate plans to sever Lancelot's head from either his shoulders or from between his legs. Whichever seemed prudent at the moment.

Distrusting her husband's motives, Isolde insinuated herself into his arms, in order to prevent Lancelot's blood from flowing in crimson rivers across the flagstones, both of them keeping a close eye on the door as the rest of their fellows disappeared. "What do you think is going on?" she inquired of her husband, looking up at him quietly. She adored her sister-in-law and was worried about what the combatants' silence could mean.

Tristan was listening, hearing things that anyone without his incredibly acute hearing would never have heard. "I think I'm going to have to avenge my sister's honor."

Isolde rolled her eyes, teasing him, "Are you sure it's not Bergisa's idea?"

"Hold your tongue, woman. Lancelot is a rogue and a rake and a villain, the vermin I crush beneath my shoe. If anything at all happens, it's all on his shoulders."

Isolde chuckled, knowing full well that Bergisa's motto was, _"No bedding before the wedding."_ Which meant, if there any seduction, it would all be on Lancelot's shoulders. But that didn't mean she had to admit that tidbit to her husband.

An hour passed in silence and the two glanced at each other. Moving quietly, Tristan removed the bar without making a single sound. Taking his wife's hand, he led her away.

Bergisa looked up at the man, both panting as the air rang with Bergisa's inadvertent confession. Lancelot stared at her, ordering imperiously, "Say that again."

Bergisa glowered at him, opening her mouth to tell him what's what, when he said the one thing that could knock her onto her backside, "Please, Bergisa. Tell me what you said."

Bergisa nibbled on her lower lip, before bursting out, "When you look at all those other women, I'm jealous as hell!"

Lancelot stared at her, before chuckling, "Well, I'm jealous of every man that so much as glances at you as you pass. Even the Knights, and they're all married. Why do you think I freaked out when you were talking to that idiotic country bumpkin?"

Bergisa smiled shyly, blushing a pretty rose color, reaching out to run lazy hands over the bulging muscles in his arms. Suddenly looking severe again, she pushed away again and scowled up at him, "Now let's get one thing straight, though, this doesn't mean I like you. I still hate you."

Lancelot chuckled slightly, murmuring, "I hate you too, my own," before gripping her arms gently and pulling her up into a passionate embrace.

About ten minutes later, Bergisa was on her back on the bed, enjoying the feel of Lancelot's lips on her own. His hand started to drift and she slapped him, hard, across the topknot. "Ow! What?" Lancelot cried out, letting her go like she was on fire and grabbing the top of the suddenly aching crown of his head, probing with his fingers for a bump or a bloodied area.

"I don't bed before I wed, Lancelot. You're just going to have to wait," she insisted, confidently, before sitting up and moving toward the door. She adjusted the lie of her gown and curtsied mockingly, "I'll see you in the morning, Sir."

Lancelot grumbled as she disappeared from the room, before smiling goofily and leaning back against his pillows. The next morning, Sir Lancelot of Sarmatia, the only Knight to remain unmarried, asked Tristan for his only sister's hand in marriage. Morgaine had to threaten and cajole and argue and plead with the obstinate scout, before Tristan finally agreed with the match. The following week, The Last Bachelor of Camelot officially promised himself to the Queen's lady-in-waiting, the Lady Bergisa.


	55. Chapter 55

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

An: First I have to apologize profusely. I was late on Friday, and when I went to upload the next chapter, the sight was read-only until the next morning. But I had work and my boyfriend all weekend. Sorry! Don't kill me. (Ducks behind great big bunker.) Anyway, Kindly words for my Kindly Reviewers.

Andromahke: I'm glad you like them. And that's basically going to be their relationship. Bergisa has trust issues when he's gone for long periods of time, as you'll see later on, but they're all good. She doesn't quite believe he's given up his player ways. But if I had a brother like Tristan, I wouldn't be too worried about. Oh wait a minute, I do have a brother like Tristan. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. ;)

op: You registered? For little ole me? That's so sweet! I could kiss you. I'm glad you liked that. And yes, Morgaine is way too nice. It's just hard to hate her I'm afraid.

Maeghan: Friday was the last day. And so the count until July begins. Wah! But I hope you like this chapter.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Don't fall off your bed. You could hurt yourself doing that! ;) I'm glad you were that amused.

Evenstar-mor2004: I actually heard that from Babak. It's her motto. I just incorporated it. And yes, they came to their senses. Morgaine feels you relief, and not a little bit of her own as well.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you liked the chapter. I've been busy and unable to work on it. I'll send it to you tonight, if I can, or tomorrow at the latest. I'd bank on tomorrow if I were you. And which story is getting really good? Healer or Once Upon a Britain? Just curious. ;)

Natalie: Yes, they are going to make a great couple.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yes, this is how my world works. I've actually done that. Which is why my sister is married to the man of her dreams. Actually, it was a closet, but that's beside the point. It worked fantastically in real life. So why not have it work in Healer? ;) I hope you like this chapter.

The green lama: I don't think I even want to know how it is that you chose your screen name. It's cool though. Thank you. I'm glad you think I rock. And yes, they are finally getting married.

Babak: Of course you get a wedding! Did you honestly think I would do that to you? Come on! You're my Babak! I'm glad you though Morgaine was pretty clever. I told you, Melinus was on Morgaine's payroll. And yes, Tristan is wonderful. He's hilarious, which is surprising in a way because he's so blasted quiet. Thank you, thank you!

HGandRHForever? Where are you? Are you there? What's wrong? Do you not love me anymore? Wah! That's the saddest thing I've ever heard.

Lady Morgaine: God bless you! I hope you're all right.

Chapter Fifty-Five

A couple months later, Morgaine was watching Bergisa run around like a chicken with her head cut off. Today, was Bergisa and Lancelot's wedding day. "**Finally**," Morgaine muttered as her eyes tracked Bergisa around the room.

Archie and Sanora were keeping amused in a corner as Morgaine assisted the panicking bride-to-be. Finally, she took the woman by the arm and slapped her lightly across the face. Bergisa froze, stunned, before smiling at Morgaine. "Thank you. I think I needed that."

Morgaine rolled her eyes, "That's for sure. Are you okay now?"

"I think so," she confessed sheepishly, before frowning severely. "Do you think he'll ditch?"

"If he tries it, Tristan is already on hand to kill him for you." Morgaine teased, her eyes sparkling. "Tristan is still throwing a temper tantrum about this you know."

"Tristan can do whatever he likes. I am going to marry Lancelot and nothing he has to say is going to dissuade me. Besides, Isolde's on my side," Bergisa sing-songed as Morgaine helped her slip the gown over her head.

The two giggled excitedly as they readied the bride for her wedding day. Tristan, on the other hand, was being carefully watched by his wife. Isolde had been relegated to babysitting him so that there would still be a bridegroom at the beginning of the ceremony. Isolde was currently shaking her head as he tried to suggest a million things that could halt the wedding. "Come on, Iso, can I at least threaten him? He's marrying my baby sister! She's more important to me than anything else in the world except you and our sons."

Isolde chuckled at her husband, going up on tiptoes to kiss the underside of his chin. "I am going to go and check on the twins." Smiling up at him innocently, she continued, "I'm going to be back in about twenty minutes. If you are here when I get back, I won't know you've gone anywhere."

Tristan grinned wide as he realized that his wife was giving him permission to at least menace the cocky Knight. Isolde, seeing that he caught on to her hint, smiled up at him and moved away. At the doorway, she turned back to look at him, "And Tristan?"

Tristan looked over at her, eyes curious, "Yes, my love?"

"No bloodshed," she admonished, before leaving the room completely.

Tristan grinned and slipped unseen from the room. He found Lancelot in his room, adjusting the lay of his armor nervously. The slither of iron on iron sent an ominous hiss through the room. Lancelot jumped, lunging for his blades.

He didn't get to them fast enough. Tristan had the edge of his curved blade positioned at Lancelot's jugular, causing Lancelot to watch his soon-to-be brother-in-law (assuming he lived through this particular experience) warily. "What do you want Tristan?"

Tristan smiled evilly, Lancelot suddenly remembering why it was that Galahad had once accused the scout of enjoying the kill. "Just to pass on a warning. If I find out that you so much as look at another female, whether she's a barmaid or a married or even a 3 year old child, I will cut out your eyes, slice out your tongue and then I'll take great pleasure in slicing you limb from limb. Bergisa is my sister. And I will not allow you to shame her with your womanizing ways."

Lancelot swallowed carefully, keeping his eyes fixed on the blade at his throat. "I promise you now, Tristan, as I will soon promise Bergisa….I love her and I will be faithful to her all the days of my life. No harm will ever come to her, so long as I have breath in my body."

Tristan watched Lancelot, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Grunting lightly, he sheathed the sword with a _bang!_ "Good. See to it that it stays that way."

Lancelot breathed a sigh of relief as Tristan slipped from the room as quietly as he had arrived. Arthur arrived moments later, stopping in surprise at Lancelot's slightly sweaty and pale features. "Lancelot? It's okay to get cold feet…."

"NO!" Lancelot insisted, his brain already starting to imagine what vengeance Tristan would enact upon his frame if he even tried to back out of the wedding. "I'm not ditching out!"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "I wasn't suggesting that you were. I said that it's okay to get cold feet, but after you see the woman you love coming down that aisle, it goes away. I promise. I felt the same way before my wedding to Gwen. Which is why there is ale and the rest of the Knights across the hall with the children. Come on. A couple of pints will loosen you up. We did the same to Galahad, and Tristan, and Dagonet, and to Jols and you all did it to me. Come on."

Lancelot followed Arthur, joining the rest of his friends across the hall for a couple of drinks. Galahad toasted him as Lancelot came in, "Here's the bridegroom now! To Lancelot! The Final Bachelor Among Us All!"

Gawain laughed, "Here here!"

Lancelot smiled at the best friends, relieved of their children for a little while at least. Archie and Sanora were with their mother and the bride, while Viviane and Igraine were being tended by Guinevere. At last, it was time for the ceremony to start. Before going to retrieve and escort his sister, Tristan leveled a stern eye on Lancelot. Lancelot gulped at the blatant threat in his eyes before Tristan left. He breathed a sigh of relief, before following Arthur to the cliff of ruins where the ceremony would take place. Lancelot waited patiently beside Arthur, watching the small speck of white come toward them from the base of the hill. Morgaine waited impatiently in the place of the matron-of-honor, watching her best friend get closer.

When Bergisa finally arrived, Lancelot's breath caught to see her. She was more beautiful that he could ever remember seeing her. Her gown was pure and white, the train trailing behind her. Her dusky brown hair was pulled up into a simple plaited back-style at her nape, white roses threaded through the braids. The veil draped over her lips and down her back, obscuring his view of her shadowy amber eyes. He smiled at her, and could tell by the warmth in his heart that she had smiled back from behind her shroud.

Taking her hand from Tristan, the two turned to face Merlin. Merlin smiled at the two, before beginning the ceremony. "Do you, Sir Lancelot of Sarmatia, Man and Knight, take this woman as you lawfully wedded wife? Do you take her burdens as your own, her tears as your own, her life as your own?"

Lancelot glanced over at Bergisa, speaking firmly, "I do."

"Do you, Lady Bergisa of Sarmatia, Woman and Warrior, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you take his burdens as your own, his tears as your own, his life as your own?"

Bergisa voice was strong from behind the veil, "I do."

"Then, in the sight of those here, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Knight."

Lancelot pushed the covering out of his way and kissed his new bride firmly. Morgaine, at their left, squealed with glee, throwing her bouquet of wildflowers into the air. A happily giggling Sanora caught the posy out of the air, Galahad and Gawain cocking their eyebrows at Morgaine in amusement. She blushed prettily, before attacking her best friend as Lancelot let her up for air. "Bergisa!" she cried.

"Morgaine!" Bergisa laughed back, the two lunging at each other and hugging each other tightly.

The rest of the women joined them then, all of them laughing together and congratulating profusely the last of their exclusive group. Lancelot withstood the congratulations and applause from his friends as well, wincing slightly as Tristan's grip tightened fiercely on his hands. "Remember what I said, Lance," he warned, before moving away to collect his wife and sons.

Lancelot glanced at Bergisa and smiled. "Oh, don't worry Tristan," he murmured in Sarmatian, "I wouldn't dream of it."


	56. Chapter 56

Disclaimer: I don't own this. If you recognize this, I didn't create it.

An: Kindly words for my Kindly Reviewers.

Evenstar-mor2004: I told Bergisa congratulations for you. She says thank you, (I think). And yes, if Bergisa has anything to say about it, Lancelot will indeed stay loyal to her. All the days of her lives.

Babak: Evenstar-mor2004 says congratuations about you and Lancelot. I also told her you said "thank you" which I know you would have said. I'm glad it was your perfect wedding. Morgaine thanks you for your compliment. And Bri thanks you too. ;) There's going to be a lot of interesting things going on in Lancelot/Bergisa land, that's for sure.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Yep, they finally got married. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

lilstrummrgrl527: That's the reaction I've been getting from everyone. And yes, they will still argue. They wouldn't be Lancelot and Bergisa if they didn't spend their married lives in never-ending fights. I'm glad you liked Tristan. He's one of my current favorites to write. And Isolde, as his wife, does have to babysit him. It's her job! Besides, like Bergisa said, Isolde's on Bergisa's side. I'm glad you laughed. That's my whole goal in life.

op: I'm glad you liked that line. It sounded like a very Tristan thing to say to the man who would be marrying his little sister. I hope you continue to read this story.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you think so. I hope you got the chapter for the other story. Everybody loved that part. Keep reading please.

Natalie: Glad you liked. Continuing. ;)

dw: That was a good way to say it. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

HGandRHForever: Where are you? Wah! That's two days in a row! Come back!

Lady Morgaine: God bless you! I hope you're all right.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Not long after Lancelot's wedding to the independent Bergisa, Michelle gave birth to her and Dagonet's first mutual child, a little boy they named Liam after a young knight Dagonet had once known as a child. He was dark eyed and serious, watching everyone with the same intensity his father did. He was a very solemn child, though once he knew his visitor, his grin was wide and unrestrained, displaying an adorably toothless smile. Dagonet, in Tristan-fashion, went around with a grin like a Cheshire cat for nearly three months after his birth.

Some three weeks later, Morgaine birthed her third child; also a son, that they named Ryan, or as his fathers were prone to call him, "The Little King." It was impossible to know which of the two Knights had sired Ryan, seeing as there were no defining features.

Not much later, Morgaine was at last alone in their apartments, enjoying the first bit of solitude she'd had since Ryan had been born. Galahad was out practicing his archery, probably hitting the bull's eye every time. "Why exactly does he have to practice again?" she muttered under her breath in mock-frustration, before musing wickedly, "I wish I was strong enough to go watch. He's probably wearing his kilt!" she cackled with glee, her mind's eyes volunteering the view for her willing mind.

Gawain had been begged by Arthur to train Gilly, Bors' oldest son, who was now almost fifteen. The two were probably engaged in one of their highly entertaining mock-swordfights, as the boy's father and siblings cheered him on.

Archie and Sanora were learning how to ride horses with their cousins, Viviane and Igraine, under the expert tutelage of both Arthur and Lancelot, with an adoring Bergisa watching them fondly. When Morgaine had protested their youth, she had been quietly reminded that Sarmatian children were born in the saddle; Morgaine had been forced to concede the point. Arthur and Guinevere's third daughter, Morgause -named for Guinevere's mother- was probably napping with Guinevere at that moment, as her mother recovered from her recent miscarriage. Tristan and Isolde had taken their twin sons out for a ride and weren't expected back before nightfall. Dagonet was spending time with Michelle in their chambers, both proud parents bonding further over the birth of their child. Jols was with his betrothed, Amara, the two having disappeared from the palace. To where, only the Gods knew.

All was right within the confines of Camelot and Morgaine could rest for a moment.

The rocking chair in which the contented mother sat had been crafted by a bashful Jols for her seventeenth birthday, some six years ago now. As she fed her son, she rocked back and forth slowly in front of the window. She smiled down at his head, marveling at his similarity to her. It was impossible to tell which of her Knights was his father, but that just meant that the two were always squabbling about which of them he took after more. It made for an amusing diversion, since they both adored him completely and equally. Gawain had been holding him the night before and had thought he'd seen a greenish tint to the boy's eyes, but it had turned out to be just the reflection of the stained window in the midnight blue orbs. Arthur had determined, probably accurately, that he was Morgaine's very picture and his father would remain unknown all the days of his life.

The music of nature that came through the open window -the grasses swaying back and forth….the roar of the ocean at the base of the cliff- provided the perfect complement to her calm mood, lulling her into a contented state. Her eyes drooped and her head settled back against the pillow behind her head. She must have dozed off for a moment, for when she woke Ryan was twisting in her arms and the sun was lower in the sky than it had been. She stroked the baby's head soothingly as Gawain and Galahad came in. "Good evening, Lady," Gawain murmured, reluctant to disturb her.

Morgaine smiled at the persistent nickname; what once had been a customary sign of respect had long since become his pet-name for her. Coming further into the room, Gawain moved to crouch on his heels on the left side of her chair, one strong hand coming up to cradle the baby's head. "Good evening, Gawain," she whispered tiredly, smiling at him, her free hand reaching to brush his blond locks back over his shoulder.

Galahad walked toward them, the dark fabric of his kilt swishing back and forth across his knees, before crouching on her right side, and Morgaine smiled wider. This was always the way it was; right-handed and impulsive Galahad on the right with left-handed and unruffled Gawain on the left. "Hello, Nazneen," the younger murmured, using one finger to push back the blanket around the baby to get a better look at the boy's face.

"Hello, Sarmatian," she returned, her hand moving to slice through Galahad's ebony curls.

"And how's our Little King?"

"Hungry." Morgaine informed him, before cocking an eyebrow. "All right you two. Neither of you are at all talented at subtlety. What is it?"

The two exchanged quick looks and then Galahad spoke, obviously appointed the spokesman. "You've never been to Sarmatia, Nazneen."

It was not a question. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "No, I haven't. You know that; I was born here, in Britain. What is this all about?"

"Our parents haven't heard from us. It's been nearly six years since we were supposed to be discharged and return home."

"Yes, I know," she agreed, shifting her son to her other breast. "Get to the point, Sarmatian."

"Tristan has already been and brought back the only family that remains to him. Bors and Dagonet aren't going; they have no one to go back to. But Gawain, Gaheris and I are going. So are Lancelot and Bergisa."

"Going where?" Morgaine questioned, though she had already guessed. She just wanted to hear them say it.

"We're going back to Sarmatia. Lancelot made a promise to his family that he would return, and the two of us made similar promises. As a matter of honor, we are going back."

Morgaine nodded, rubbing the baby's back. "So, you're wanting my permission to go?"

"No; we know we have that anyway." Gawain teased, his eyes sparkling. Morgaine chuckled, nodding in agreement. Of course they knew that; she would do and agree to anything to make the two of them happy. Gawain continued, "We want you to come with us; you and the children. It's where you're from, and we'd like you to join us."

Morgaine looked down at the top of her son's head, before looking up at the two men. "I don't know, doves, I'll have to think about it."

Galahad nodded, kissing her head. "You mean you'll have to get the opinions of Archie and Sanora."

Morgaine chuckled. "You know me too well. Yes, I need to talk to the children. This has to do with them as well."

Galahad nodded and kissed her sweetly. "Take as long as you need. Lancelot is leaving in about two weeks. We were hoping to go with them."

Morgaine nodded, one hand coming up to her husband's cheek. "All right. I'll talk to the children, and let you know."

So it was that two weeks later the travelers saddled Dar, Brute, Mary-Megan, Bartholomew, Bergisa's Sadira and Gaheris' Deacon, loaded down a pack-horse, gathered children onto the saddles in front of them and rode off toward Sarmatia. The trip was long, though amusing with Lancelot's and Bergisa's persistent bickering. Morgaine had not completely recovered from childbirth and usually left the two to their own devices. Thrilled to be able to practice his recently acquired horsemanship, Archie would climb into Mary-Megan's saddle when either of his fathers would pull his mother onto their horse in front of them for a short rest.

Sanora was more than comfortable with sitting in front of Gawain in his saddle, feeling his deep voice reverberate through his chest as he spoke to her beloved Momma. Though riding with her father was her favorite part of the trip, a breakneck gallop across open plain with Uncle Lance was more than a little breathtaking as well. Archie usually rode in front of Galahad, except for when he rode his mother's mare. The baby spent the trip sleeping, nestled to Morgaine's chest in the same sack she had carried Archie in, so many years ago.

A month and a half after their departure from Camelot, they arrived on the bluff above where Lancelot and his family originated from. The huts were still there, and Lancelot pointed at a man mingling among the structures. "That's my father!" he told Morgaine, eyes lit with excitement. "Pa!" he shouted in Sarmatian, plowing his horse forward.

Gawain set Sanora on the saddle behind her mother before racing off after the impulsive Knight. Bergisa and Galahad pulled closer to Morgaine, the three watching the two horses fly over the terrain. Gaheris remained apart from them as he had been the entire trip, plotting against the sable-haired Woad silently. "Must have been thinking what I was thinking," Galahad mused thoughtfully.

"Oh really? And what were you thinking?" Morgaine asked, with a teasing smile. She had no doubt that Gawain and Galahad had been thinking the exact same thing; they weren't the best pair-fighters at Camelot for no reason. They'd always been able to sense each other's thoughts and then act accordingly.

Galahad chuckled. "He's gonna get himself killed, just charging in like that."

Sanora looked up in horror, squeezing her momma tighter. She had picked up her older brother's terms of address for her fathers, and spoke up now. "Papa's not gonna die, right, Daddy?" she asked Galahad, worried.

Archie looked at his sister, haughtily, replying, "Come on, Sanora, Papa can't die. He and Daddy are invincible."

Morgaine and Galahad exchanged amused glances. Willing to let them believe what they would about their father, the two just shrugged and laughed gently, before following Bergisa down the hill as Gawain waved up at them the all-clear signal. Bergisa continued toward where Lancelot and his father were enthusiastically greeting each other, as Galahad twitched his horse to a halt, causing Morgaine to pull up as well. A woman stepped from the crowd, causing Galahad's eyes to go wide. "Ma?" he gasped, shocked and surprised.

Dismounting, he handed the reins to his son. "Can you handle Dar all by yourself?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good boy," he approved, before turning and heading toward the woman he thought was his mother. "Mama!" he cried, causing the woman to spin.

Morgaine watched her eyes widen and her mouth formed a single, soundless word, _"Galahad!"_

The woman shouted the name then, lunging through the crowd toward her son. "Galahad!" she shouted, throwing herself into her son's arms.

Mary-Megan danced uncomfortably at the sudden crush of people, and began to rear slightly. Taking her daughter's hand, Morgaine swung the four year old to the ground and started to pull the horse in, forcing her into a standstill. "Good girl," she soothed, smiling at Gawain as he came up to take the horse's bridle in a firm grip. "Thank you, my love."

"Are you all right, Lady?"

"I could use a place to lie down, and some privacy to feed our son. But I'll be fine for the moment. Are your parents here?"

"I don't know. I'm kinda surprised to see Galahad's mother here. I didn't know that he and Lancelot were from the same tribe."

Morgaine shrugged haplessly. "I don't know. Maybe she has relatives here or something."

Galahad came back just then, his mother in the curve of his arms. "Mama, I want you to meet some very important people to me."

The woman smiled up at Archie, tears growing in her eyes. "You must be his son. You look much like your father did at your age."

Archie blushed in pleasure. Though he adored both of his fathers, Galahad was not only his father…he was his hero as well. "I'm Archie; that's my sister Sanora and my little brother, Ryan. And that's my Momma and Papa." Turning to the squire with childish unhappiness, "And that grumpy-gut is Papa's brother, Gaheris."

Gaheris glared at the child, deigning not to reply. Galahad's mom looked up at her son in confusion at the child calling Gawain "Papa". Galahad chuckled, "It's a long story, Mama. I'll tell you everything later."

The woman nodded, smiling up at Morgaine. "I am Medora, Galahad's mother. It is an honor to meet you. You have no idea how glad I am to see my son; I have grieved for his death for nigh onto seven years now."

"We knew we had to come and see you for just that reason. I am called the 'Dark Child,' or Morgaine, and this is our life-partner, Gawain."

"It is an honor to meet you both, Dark Child."

"Why are you here Mama?"

"Your father passed away two years ago. My parents and brother are members of this tribe. I live here with them."

Galahad nodded, though his face dimmed slightly at the realization that he wouldn't be able to see his father again. Gawain bowed slightly in respect to the woman, displaying the court manners that Morgaine and Guinevere had been drilling into the Knights since Arthur's coronation. "Morgaine is tired and needs to feed our son. Is there anywhere she can be alone?"

"Yes, of course. Come with me. And then you must tell me all about your adventure, my son. I have missed you so."

Galahad nodded, swinging up onto Dar behind Archie. Medora reached up and looped her hand through her son's. Gawain lifted Sanora into his saddle, gripping the bridles of both horses and following Galahad and Medora to her tiny hut behind her brother's. Gaheris wandered over to where a group of young men watched Galahad's young bride disdainfully. Morgaine was led inside and Medora helped settle her on the sleeping pallet of furs, Gawain giving her Ryan and Galahad covering them both. One dark hand moved to rest on her son's back, holding him where he lay, before Morgaine herself slipped into sleep. Gawain seated himself on the edge, keeping his hand on top of Morgaine's so that Ryan didn't roll off her belly. Looking up at Galahad, he smiled. "I'll watch them. Go and enjoy your reunion with your mother."

Galahad nodded, bending to kiss his wife's forehead. "I love you Nazneen," he murmured in her ear.

She murmured nonsensically, before subsiding back into sleep. Sanora and Archie each took one of their father's hands, before following him into the main room. Medora was stoking a smoldering fire and smiled up at her son. "While I start supper, tell me everything."

Galahad nodded, sitting down on the cushions and pulling Sanora into his lap. Sanora squirmed for a moment before getting comfortable. Archie leaned against his father's leg, watching his new grandmother closely, before listening as Galahad began to tell everything that had happened in the last 21 years: the story of his service, how he met Morgaine, the final battle, Gawain's relationship with his wife and the glory of Camelot. It was a story that the boy never tired of hearing. Medora could only listen to the tale with wide eyes, marveling that her son had even survived to come home to her.


	57. Chapter 57

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: First of all! I'm so sorry! I was sick with writer's block gasp. But….I went to see my muse and he said I'm healing fine. He gave me some ideas and so, here we are. You're getting three chapters today, to make up for the chapters I've haven't posted in awhile. Secondly, Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

dw: I know, wasn't it sad. So I thought I had to rectify that little oversight. It was terrible that he didn't keep his promise.

op: I'm glad you come away smiling.

Natalie: There will be more Arthur/Guinevere, but not at the moment. The next couple chapters deal with Morgaine/Gawain/Galahad and their relations in Sarmatia. I hope you enjoy for the most people.

Babak: Thanks for the babies. I love father/child interaction! It's fun to write. And yes, you get to meet the in-laws. And of course they'll love you. You're Bergisa! And Hestia, Lancelot's sister, becomes a pain in both of your sides. I hope you think she's funny. I hope you continue to enjoy.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you can sense a twist, because you're going to be getting one soon.

lilstrummrgrl527: It's my goal in life to make everyone laugh! I've had lots of practice. There will be plenty of confusion on the part of the Sarmatians about Ryan's birth father. Just not yet. There will also be bad things said about his mother. And I agree! It takes a real man to wear a kilt. And I agree again that all of the Knights should wear them. Prove how manly they really are! I love Galahad in a kilt. Whenever I'm talking about it with my friend Chris, I always go off into my own little la-la-land. Just ask him. But that's okay! Galahad is hot! And he's even hotter in a kilt! And yes, all sons think their fathers are invincible at the tender age of seven. And no, it's not the end. Not yet.

ZELINIA: Lancelot's sister makes her grand debut in chapter Fifty-Eight. Which is next. I hope you like her. She causes Bergisa and Lancelot some undue stress. Yes she does. ;) Please email me back. I don't know if you got that chapter yet, so I emailed it again.

And so without a single stop at 7-Eleven….

Chapter Fifty-Seven

The morning following their arrival, Gawain slipped from their shared bed and pulled on his clothes in the darkness of pre-dawn. Morgaine, sensing the loss of warmth on her left side, stirred sleepily. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and looked around. Smiling at the sight of her lover, she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Where are you going?" she whispered in Sarmatian, looking up at him adoringly.

Gawain turned back to her, smiling at her sleep-dazed eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead indulgently, before buckling his belt and then sitting on the edge beside her. "I have to go and find my own parents, Lady. I have to let them know I'm safe."

Morgaine nodded, her fingers trailing nonsensical designs over the flesh of his palm. "Would you like some company?"

Gawain kissed her gently, reining in his baser desires for the sake of a tender embrace. "No, Lady. I'll be fine. Stay here with Galahad and the children and I'll see you soon."

She nodded, gripping his shirt desperately. "Be careful," she begged, her eyes closed in an attempt to stave off her tears.

"I will. Go back to sleep," he instructed fondly, standing and grabbing his saddlebags.

Morgaine stayed up on her elbow until he reached the door-flap. Turning back, he grinned at her. She smiled back tearfully, watching as he left the hut. Seconds later, she could hear Brute stamp his front hoof in greeting, before nickering fondly at his master. There was silence and then the sound of pounding hooves as Gawain headed out of the village toward the east where his own family waited for news that he was well. "Be safe, my love," she murmured, her eyes closed in a prayer to the moon she so admired.

Looking around, her heart swelled at the sight of her two eldest children. Archie and Sanora shared a pallet on the floor, Sanora cuddled against her brother unconsciously. Turning back onto her right side, she smiled at the sight of her baby and husband. Ryan lay on his belly between them, Galahad's hand resting gently on the baby's diapered bottom to make sure that he didn't get squished. Interlacing her fingers with her husband's, she laid down again and closed her eyes, the peaceful features of father and son the last thing she saw before slipping away again.

It was just before midday before she woke again. Galahad lay beside her, stroking curled fingers up and down the baby's back tenderly. Ryan still slept peacefully, lulled into a state of contentment by the obvious affection in his father's touch. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't help but smile at the picture that presented itself. Galahad lay on his left side, his head propped up by the heel of his free hand. His ivy green eyes were watching her warmly while a curling ebony lock kept falling into them rakishly, despite his constant attempts to brush it away. "Morning," he whispered, kissing her gently.

"Good morning. The children?"

"Gone. Mama took them to visit my grandparents and uncle. Where's Gawain?"

"He went to find his own parents. The baby?" she murmured, placing a phantom kiss to the fuzzy crown of the child's head.

"Slept like an angel. How about you? Did you sleep all right?"

"Better than I have since we left Camelot and Britain."

"Good; in that case my family has been asking for you all morning."

She groaned, closing her eyes tightly again. "I'm still asleep."

"Nice try. I don't want to have to deal with the them anymore than you do."

"Where's Lancelot?"

"Out hunting with his father. Lancelot is having a grand old time, now that's he back."

"And Bergisa?"

"Getting to know her prospective mother-in-law. Come now, no more stalling. Let's wake our Little King, get him fed and then go and find my mother and brothers."

Morgaine nodded and carefully lifted her youngest child into her arms. Ryan blinked fussily, letting out a displeased cry. Undoing the laces of her shirt, Morgaine turned onto her back and gave her child her breast. He rooted around for a moment, before latching onto her nipple and settling in to feast. Galahad threw back the furs and stood, stretching naked in the dim light of the hut. Morgaine watched his backside appreciably as he crouched by the washbowl, splashing the icy water over his face to wake himself up completely. Dressing took little to no time and he returned to bed, sitting on the edge beside her. "I'm going to go check on the children. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine. I'll finish feeding him, get dressed and join you soon."

Galahad nodded, leaning over and capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. Her right hand came up, cupping his cheek tenderly as they kissed for a moment, their son continuing to suckle at her breast unperturbed. Pulling away from his wife's strawberry lips, he trailed ghostlike fingers over the crown of his child's head and then kissed the fuzz. Smiling at the two, he got up and left the tent.

Morgaine relished the solitude, enjoying the moment allowed her between mother and child. After Ryan had drank his fill, she dressed in a homespun cotton dress, the hem several inches above her bare feet. Hefting the stocky little boy into her arms, she left the tent and emerged into the glaring light of the day.

Galahad was standing with some young men who were a little older than him, laughing and exchanging stories. If she had to place bets, she'd say that these young men were probably her husband's surviving brothers and/or cousins, also returned from their servitude to Rome. As she approached unseen, she paused as she heard Galahad speak, "There are some good things that came from my service to Rome. My wife, Morgaine, and our children. If I hadn't been taken from here, I never would have met her. So I thank the Romans for that at least."

"Nothing Roman can be good," another replied, sipping from a wooden mug.

"My wife is a quarter Roman, though she's half Sarmatian. And her brother, Artorius, was my Roman commander….he is a good man, a great king, genuinely concerned about us. And I met my best friend, Gawain, while I was away."

"I noticed that your daughter is fair haired. You're not fair haired, Gal, and neither is the woman you call wife. Who's child is she?"

"She's the daughter of my wife and Gawain."

"And yet, this Gawain is still your best friend? I would have run him through the instant I found out that the girl was not mine. And then I would have spit my wife and her bastard over a roaring fire." Brenius remarked snidely.

"Ah, but you are not me. I have always loved Morgaine. From the first time I met her, I knew she was special. She had a great capacity for love. She loved me, yes, but she loved Gawain as well. And Gawain loved her in return. They both resisted doing anything that could hurt me. But I don't mind that they love each other. Gawain shares our bed with us."

Morgaine stepped on a twig, causing it to snap loudly and everyone turned to look at her. Morgaine's eyes were frightened and concerned, causing Galahad to move away from his friends. "Nazneen? What troubles you?"

"He scares me, Sarmatian," she confided in Latin.

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he pulled her close. "I won't let anything happen to you," he reassured her in the same language.

"Who are they?"

"That is my oldest brother, Urien, and beside him are the twins who are just barely younger than him, Brenius and Belinus. Then there are my cousins; Lovell, Ferant, and Alphegus. Come on, I'll introduce you. They'll love you as soon as they get to know you, just like I did."

Morgaine nodded, pulling her son closer to her as Galahad wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders and leading her along. "Guys, this is my wife, Morgaine. And our youngest, Ryan."

They all nodded at her congenially, although their eyes displayed their malice adequately enough. Morgaine stayed close to her husband, eyes flitting to and from each man as Galahad continued to talk with his family members. Suddenly, Sanora came running pell-mell around the corner, shouting in Briton, "Daddy! Papa's back!"

"Coming Nora!" he called, bending to kiss his wife's head. "Let me take Ryan and you can go, Nazneen."

She smiled at him relieved, her eyes closing in awe at the feelings that rushed through her heart as his lips brushed across her skin reverently. She handed the little boy to his father, trailing gentle fingers over the chubby cheek, before grabbing two fistfuls of her skirt and racing away. "I love you!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing.

Gawain was riding toward the camp where he'd left his family, his father and brothers following him, his mother and sister-in-laws perched on the saddles in front of them. He stood in his stirrups, smiling at the sound of his daughter's cry of, "Papa!"

She was running as fast as her tiny legs could take her toward him. Getting close enough, he vaulted off of Brute's back, swinging the laughing child into his arms. Sanora giggled uncontrollably as he tossed her high into the air. "Papa! Where were you?" she asked, perched on his crossed arms and her own tiny hands sitting on his shoulders. Her blond hair was flying loose around her face, her blue eyes watching him gravely.

"I had to go get someone, my little Princess," he explained, hugging her tightly before hearing the most beloved voice he'd ever known call, "Gawain!"

Looking up, his heart seized up with love at the sight of Morgaine running toward him, her entire face lit up with joy. Setting Sanora down, he caught the Dark Child as she lunged into his arms. "Lady," he whispered, pulling her close to him.

She clung to him, before pulling back to get a better look at him. "Are you okay? No broken bones, injuries, gashes…not sick? Do you stitches, bonesetter, anything?" she asked frantically in Sarmatian, pulling away and running her hands down his arms and chest as though to reassure herself that there was nothing wrong with him. 

"I've only been gone for half a day." Gawain laughed, smiling at her.

"I don't know. I've seen you get into worse scrapes in a lot less time than that."

Gawain grinned at her, kissing her breathless. Morgaine moaned and threw her arms around his neck, before pulling back. "I met his brothers. And cousins," she told him in Briton.

"And?" he asked curiously, sensing that the meeting had not gone just by the tremors that ran through her body.

"Think about it in terms of Gaheris' animosity. Then multiply it by about a thousand. They are plotting the demise of not only me, but you and our daughter, even as we speak."

Gawain nodded, stepping back and lifting Sanora onto his hip. "I missed you Papa." Sanora confessed solemnly.

"I missed you too, Princess." Wrapping an arm around Morgaine's waist, he pulled her close, "I promised that nothing will happen to you, so long as Galahad and I live. I gave Arthur my oath that I would protect you. I will honor that oath."

Morgaine nodded, before looking up at the people on horseback. Gawain smiled up at them, squeezing Morgaine lightly, "Mother…Father, I want you to meet the two women who mean more than the world to me. My life-partner, Morgaine, and our daughter, Sanora."

The woman, Marian by name, leaned down and touched Morgaine's face with a smile. "It is wonderful to meet you Child. Our son has told us all about you. My name is Marian."

"The pleasure is all mine, ma'am. I have anticipated our meeting for many months now."

Marian's father, Lamorak, lifted his wife from the horse, before swinging down after her. "I am Lamorak. Welcome to the family."

Morgaine smiled, happy that this initial meeting had gone so well. The other two women slid down from the horses and approached her as well. "I am Shahara and this is my sister, Rohana. We are very happy to meet you. And Gawain's brothers, Gareth and Aggravaine. Come, we have to talk."

Gareth smiled at the woman. "When I left Britain, we were under the impression you were dead."

Morgaine laughed. "Miracles can happen. How are you Gareth?"

Gareth chuckled. "I am well. I made it home. And I'm married to the most beautiful woman in the world," he insisted, his eyes drifting to Rohana. "Galahad?"

"I am even more in love with Galahad than I was the day I disappeared. Married him as soon as I returned."

"Married?" asked Shahara, trying to understand how this woman her brother-in-law claimed was married to another.

"It's complicated, Shahara. But it works for us." Gawain reassured her.

Galahad joined them then, Ryan sleeping peaceably in his arms. Gawain smiled at his best friend. "How is our Little King?"

"Tuckered out. He's had a bit too much excitement for the day. How was your trip?"

"Productive. Galahad, my father Lamorak, my mother Marian, I'm sure you remember my brother, Gareth, and also my other brother, Aggravaine and their wives, Rohana and Shahara, respectively. Everyone, this is my best friend and Morgaine's husband, Galahad."

Rohana laughed. "Lucky woman, you. Two very handsome men to call your own. And so well trained. I wish I had your talent."

Morgaine laughed happily. "I will confess that it wasn't easy."

Rohana smiled at her, threading her arm through the younger woman's own. "I wouldn't imagine so. I've known Gawain since he was a baby. He was always a handful, even as a child. Come, we must talk shop. Shahara? Are you coming?"

Shahara nodded, looping her own arm through Morgaine's, before the three women headed off. Gawain looked at his mother, trying to ascertain her reaction to his news. Marian came to stand in front of her son, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, Mother. I am more happy that I ever dreamed of being. She made Roman rule bearable, if only for a short time."

"Good. Then I will say nothing more about it."

Gaheris had heard the mutterings of Urien and his family when Galahad had moved away and joined them now. "So, you don't approve of her either?"

Urien looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Gaheris, Gawain's younger brother," introduced himself, his chin held high with pride.

"It is dishonor to plot against your family," Belinus reminded him, watching the young man carefully.

"That witch is not my family!" Gaheris hissed. "She has bewitched my brother. And I am determined to free him from her influence."

"What would hurt her most, though?"

Gaheris looked up, seeing Morgaine, Shahara, Rohana and a recently joined Bergisa walk past, little Ryan in Morgaine's arms. Sanora was probably with her father and Archie scampered alongside Bergisa, holding her hands tightly as he jabbered on about how cool everything was. "Her children are her entire world. If you take her children, she'll break."

The other men looked at each other and nodded. "Agreed. But first, we need a plan."

Gaheris nodded, watching as his mother approached him with a Gawain at her side. "I'll meet you anywhere."

Lovell nodded, stating, "The creek."

"I'll be there at sundown."

The rest nodded and moved away as Marian suddenly converged on her youngest son. "Gaheris! Look at you! Britain must agree with you."

Gawain watched the other men walk away, before looking down at his little brother. "Who were you talking to?"

"Just Galahad's brothers and cousins."

That casual -too casual- statement sent off warning bells in Gawain's head. Looking around, he relaxed a bit as he saw that Galahad had joined the women and their children. They met eyes and Galahad nodded at his best friend, obviously having guessed what Gawain had heard. Turning back to his family, he was soon engaged in a lively conversation with Gareth and Aggravaine about their individual children. But all day long and long into the night, Gaheris' declaration remained with him, worrying him into exhaustion.


	58. Chapter 58

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Chapter Two out of Three. Hope you like! Today we meet Lancelot's sister.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Two days after Lancelot returned from hunting with his father, his widowed sister also arrived from the village of her dead husband. Lancelot was talking animatedly with his father. Bergisa and Morgaine could only watch the Knight become someone unlike anybody they'd ever seen him. From behind them came a call in Sarmatian, "Lancelot!"

Lancelot turned to look at her. "Hestia!" he cried, grabbing her and whirling her around, the two of them laughing.

Morgaine smirked, sensing an upcoming fight, before looking away as Bergisa turned to glower at her. Turning back, Bergisa watched her husband, feeling jealously start to broil in her heart. "Lance!" she snapped, causing her husband to look at her. "Who is this?"

Lancelot, sensing what she was implying, snapped back, "Would you believe me if told you?"

Morgaine turned her back and started to walk off, knowing better than to get between the two of them. Bergisa growled at him, before snapping back a haughty reply, and the two were off, before Hestia reached out and touched Lancelot and Bergisa's arms. "I'm Lancelot's sister," she murmured, hugging the woman he could sense was her brother's beloved. "My name is Hestia."

The two combatants were stunned.

For the first time in their relationship, they were interrupted in the middle of an argument by someone, without just cause. Morgaine had stopped them only the once, but that was because both of them were being stupid. Bergisa could feel her shoulders tighten, but nodded at her and replied, "I'm pleased to meet you, Hestia. My name is Bergisa. Lancelot is my husband."

Hestia smiled. "I could tell. Come, meet my mother."

Bergisa nodded again and followed the younger woman into a tent. Lancelot, surprised that Bergisa had stopped an argument at someone else's behest, was suddenly bereft. Deciding to go with it, he followed the two inside to greet his mother, Agorna, after his long absence.

Three days later, Lancelot and Bergisa were about to go individually insane. Every time the two started to fight with one another, the peace-loving and gentle Hestia would interrupt them, and lead Bergisa away to do something else. By now, the tension was about to drive the two of them insane. Lancelot joined Morgaine and her men as they lounged beneath the trees, watching their two elder children play in the shade. Ryan slept on a blanket to their right, completely oblivious to the world around him. "Morgaine! I'm going to go insane."

Gawain popped a fresh grape into his mouth and mused absently, "I had thought you were already gone."

Lancelot glared at him, before returning to commiserating with his little sister. "Hestia is always interrupting us."

Morgaine mused absently, "You know I haven't heard a single argument from you and Bergisa since before we got here."

Lancelot moaned in distress, "I know! For once, I'd like a good slap from a woman."

Morgaine cocked her eyebrow, before her palm connected with a loud _crack!_ across her brother's face. Lancelot's face was etched in shock and his hand reached to cup his cheek. Then he got mad. "What did you do that for?"

"You said you'd like a good slap from a woman."

"Not you!" Lancelot snapped, before moaning out, "Bergisa!"

Galahad smirked, catching the ball that came rolling toward him and tossing to back to his son. "You know, Lance, you didn't specify."

Lancelot glared at Morgaine's husband, growling out, "Galahad, stay out of this. I beat you once. I can do it again!"

Bergisa suddenly appeared from around the corner of the hut slightly to the side of the group. Her hand drew back and she slapped him. Hard. "I've HAD it with your sister!" she roared, turning red.

Lancelot looked up at the sky, muttering, "Thank the Gods!"

Turning his attention back to his wife, the two started to scream at each other at the top of their lungs. Hestia arrived to try and stop the fight once again, prompting Morgaine to take pity on her friends. Galahad grabbed her right arm, while Gawain grabbed her left, both of Morgaine's hands pressed over her mouth. Together, the three of them dragged her backward. Morgaine shook her head at the girl, murmuring, "Trust me."

Galahad picked up from there, "You don't want to do that."

Gawain nodded, "It's better to just let them go at it."

Galahad spoke at that moment, his tone snarky, "In more ways than one."

Hestia's face was filled with awe and disgust. "Oh my Gods. Is it normal?"

"Very." Galahad and Gawain commented dryly, getting fond but exasperated glares from Morgaine.

"How often does this happen?"

"About two or three times a day," Morgaine said.

"And you let them?"

Gawain laughed, "It's not so much that you let them. It's that you fear bodily harm if you get in the middle of them. There's only been one person stupid enough to try it."

Galahad immediately protested, "I was trying to go around them. Suddenly, all I know is the fight has suddenly shifted and I'm in the middle of it."

Morgaine chuckled and continued dryly, "Next thing he remembers is waking up in our bed with a concussion and a broken arm."

Hestia looked frightened, "So, what have I been doing when I've been breaking them up?"

Gawain commented idly, "Let's just say that if you weren't Lancelot's sister, your bones would have been picked clean by the vultures."

"And the bones themselves dragged off by carrion," Galahad concurred, as Morgaine topped off the proverbial picture, "And those shiny golden strands of hair making various birds very pretty nests."

Hestia paled and nodded, before turning her back on them and moving away, as white as a sheet. Morgaine tipped her head back and looked up at her husband, "Think she'll interrupt them again?"

"Not likely. Now….we must have to worry about Lancelot's mother."

A day later, Morgaine and Gawain were listening in amusement as Galahad teased an incredibly bored Lancelot. His wife was unavailable to argue with, and Lancelot was starting to loose his patience with the youngest Knight. As he mocked the elder Knight, Galahad was sharpening the arrows he'd used for practice earlier that day. "Come on, Lance, what's wrong? Are you having a bad day?"

"Galahad! Shut up! I'll kick your ass, so help me gods," the disgruntled Knight gritted out through clenched teeth.

Gawain was sharpening the head of his ax and picked up where Galahad left off, glancing sidelong at Morgaine as she shined her twin blades -the pair that Lancelot had given her for her seventeenth birthday- running the buffing stone in smooth strong strokes over the sharpened steel. "I think he's missing the Lady Bergisa!" Gawain put in, his lip curled in a sly grin.

"Shut up both of you! I'll take all three of you on!" he roared, letting his temper get the best of him.

Suddenly, he found himself face to face -and unarmed- against three heavily armed and proven-to-be dangerous warriors. Morgaine had both of her blades in her hands, Gawain had his dagger in one and axe in the other, while Galahad's bow had appeared out of nowhere, cocked and loaded with a sharpened arrow. His eyes widened and he cried out, "Bergisa! Help!"

Bergisa came out of the hut, wiping her hands on a towel. "My love, has your mouth run away with you again?"

Lancelot rushed to stand behind her, looking at the three of them over her shoulder. "I'm not quite sure how this happened. One minute I'm challenging all three of them. The next, I'm faced with three of the most capable warriors in Britain."

Bergisa shook her head and turned away, moving to continue her task inside the house. Lancelot stared at her in shock. "Bergisa!"

"You got yourself into this mess, husband. You get yourself out of it," she taunted over her shoulder, just before she disappeared into the hut.

Behind her, she heard him mutter in a decidedly discontented tone, "Can't she ever do as she's told?"

She whirled back around, "Excuse you? You pompous prick!"

"Well, can't you? You're always insisting on being independent. You're not a proper woman at all!"

Bergisa, insulted beyond belief, let her hand fly without realizing it, the sound of it striking his flesh a loud _slap!_ "You arrogant…."

Realizing that the two were about to go at it in the middle of the square, the other three stowed their weapons and beat a hasty retreat, Morgaine scooping up Ryan from his blanket at a run. For nearly an hour after, Bergisa and Lancelot's voice rang through the village. Morgaine finally looked at her men from where she lay sprawled on the bed, breastfeeding their son as her husbands played with their children on the floor. Humming distractedly, she questioned idly, "Do you think she'll realize that Bergisa did exactly what Lancelot wanted her to do?"

"What do mean?" Galahad asked, looking at his wife fondly.

She smirked in amusement, "He wanted her help warding off the three of us. She wouldn't help him. He started a fight. The three of us cut our losses and ran."

The two men caught on in moments and started to laugh along with their wives, pitying the older Knight in advance for when his wife caught on to the fact that he had tricked her into helping him. "Poor Lance," Gawain bemoaned, before Galahad tacked on a laughing, "She's going to kill him!"


	59. Chapter 59

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Chapter Three out of Three. Hope you like! Today, we get the greatest twist in the story. And we meet my new antagonists. Yeah!

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Later that night, Gaheris met Urien, Brenius, Belinus, Lovell, Ferant and Alphegus at the creek. Appearing out of the shadows, Urien asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Gaheris, having already considered the consequences, replied, "Yes, I do."

Brenius then replied, "You are aware you could get caught and earn your brother's everlasting hate?"

Gaheris immediately spoke up. "Without Morgaine to hold him under her spell, Gawain will come to realize that what I do is in his best interest."

Belinus nodded sharply, his teeth glinting white in the meager moonlight as he smiled his approval. "Good. Then let us discuss possible ways to get rid of the Witch."

Ferant, suddenly uneasy about what they planned, inquired, "And how do we know this? Are we sure that Galahad and Gawain are not truly in love with her and that this is not a spell?"

Urien, impatient with his cousin, snapped, "Of course we're sure. What else could it be?"

Nodding his head in agreement with his cousin, Ferant fell silent. It was almost dawn before the meeting broke up. Galahad, out to saddle his horse, saw his cousins as they returned from the creek and approached them, with a final pat to Dar's neck. "You three are up early. Usually you cannot be woken before noon."

Alphegus, concerned that he was on to them, replied back, "We were just out for a walk."

Determined not to believe his cousins of ill will, Galahad nodded. "I see. So you won't mind going for a ride?"

Though they were exhausted, having not slept at all the night before, they were caught. Nodding, they agreed and moved to saddle their own horses.

As the weeks went by, their plans became more firm. What had originally been quiet malice toward Morgaine and her children was now open and blatant. After a few days, Morgaine was never left alone. Either Gawain or Galahad was always at her side, the children close by as well. Gaheris, the youngest and most believable liar, left early one morning some three weeks after their original meeting. He claimed he was going to his village to see his own cousins; his parents, brothers and sister-in-laws were still in the village visiting Galahad, Gawain and Morgaine.

In reality, Gaheris was riding toward a Roman post forty miles east, to carry out the next phase of their plan. He didn't return for a week. Galahad and Gawain grew concerned, noticing that whenever they approached, the whispering stopped and whatever they had been speaking of, was no longer of consequence. When Gaheris returned at last returned, he met up with his fellow conspirators.

Meeting at the creek at midnight once again, he smirked at their open concern. "The ace is in the hole," he told them. "We should have no problems when the time comes."

The next morning, as Galahad and Gawain were leaving Medora's tent, Lovell approached Galahad. "My father would like you, Gawain, Lancelot and Gawain's brothers, Gareth and Aggravaine, to accompany him on a hunting trip. He is afraid you have forgotten how to provide for your family. What with your free ride in Britain, and all."

Galahad, mildly affronted by the implied insult but willing to comply anyway, replied, "Only if Gawain stays behind."

Lovell panicked, forced to think fast. Putting on a cool composure, he asked confidently, "What's the matter, cousin? Don't you trust us?"

Galahad nodded, still unwilling to believe that any member of his family would intentionally want to hurt Morgaine. "All right, we leave at dusk."

When informed of the plan, in a reaction completely unlike the usually calm and collected Knight, Gawain blew up fantastically. "You're just going to leave her here? Alone? There's no one to look after her, no one to protect her. We cannot assume they mean her good will! They have been nothing but cruel to her since Gaheris returned from our village."

Galahad replied, "I cannot assume that they mean her ill will either. Mother will be with her. She will be safe."

That night, Galahad and Gawain kissed their wife and children goodbye. Morgaine clung to Galahad, concerned about what this meant. "How long will you be gone?" she asked in Briton.

His fingers tangled in her hair, his cheek rested against her hair. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of her. Galahad replied in the same, "Only a few days. We promised Arthur you would be fine."

Morgaine nodded against his shoulder, her eyes closed in agony. Speaking softly, she sent a pang of guilt through Galahad's heart, "I trust you. I don't trust them."

Despite a gnawing foreboding in his chest, Galahad only kissed her once more and mounted up. Looking down at her, he touched her head, running his fingers through her curls. "No matter what happens, remember that I love you. Tell the children that every day."

Knowing that if he did not leave then, he would not leave at all, Galahad turned and rode away. Gawain leaned down from the saddle and kissed her sweetly. "We'll be home soon. I love you all."

With one final look at her, he joined his companions as they rode across the plains. Bergisa joined Morgaine, having shared her own emotional farewell with her husband, linking arms with the younger woman. Sanora, too young to understand, raced forward, screaming, "Papa, don't go! Please, Papa, I'll be good! Just don't go!"

Gawain flinched, his horse skittering under him at the reflexive movement. Whirling his horse back around, he shouted back, "I love you! Mind your mother, my Little Princess!"

She stopped running and nodded once. Her hand rose in farewell. "I love you, Papa" drifted on the wind as Gawain followed Galahad away. Releasing Bergisa, Morgaine dropped to her knees beside her daughter, pulling her close to her heart. "They'll be home soon. And you can play with Papa once more."

Galahad and Gawain returned home a week later. Bergisa and Medora met them, their faces long and drawn. Galahad knew instantly that something was wrong. He reined in beside them, Gawain at his left and Lancelot at his right. "What?"

"Galahad, I'm so sorry."

That nagging ache in his chest flared then. His eyes locked on his mother. "What happened? Is it the children? Are they all right?"

Gawain swung down, taking her arms in his hands. "Sanora? Is she all right?"

She broke down into sobs. "I don't know, Gawain."

Gawain let her go as though she was suddenly made of fire. Galahad gripped his mother's arm and turned her gently to face him. "What do you mean, you don't know? Where's Morgaine?" he demanded, shaking her lightly.

"The Romans…." she sobbed, shaking her head, before dropping her face into her hands. "The Romans came," Bergisa whispered, wrapping the elderly woman in her arms.

Letting her go, Galahad glanced at his best friend. "You don't think…."

Gawain shook his head sharply, his jaw set in stern lines. Walking toward Medora's tent, he called back over his shoulder, "You don't want to know what I think."

Galahad nodded, gesturing at Lancelot. Lancelot dismounted as well, pulling Bergisa close for a desperate embrace, the four walking toward the tent. Hearing no happy cries of "Daddy!" or "Papa!" Morgaine's husbands felt their hearts seize in their chest. Their strides lengthened until the two were racing at full tilt. Throwing back the flap, they stopped in horror. The interior of the tent was a wreck, and there was no sign of Morgaine or the children. Marian came up behind them, her arm around Medora's heaving shoulders. "Bergisa? Mother, what happened? Where's Morgaine? Where are the children? They should be here. And what's this about Romans?"

Marian shook her head at her son, his heart stopping in his chest at her words, "They're gone, Gawain. Morgaine and the children were kidnapped."


	60. Chapter 60

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly Reviewers.

Babak: You had me worried for a second there. I checked my email last night and hadn't gotten a review from you. I was afraid I had chased you away. And right about now, Bergisa is the least of their problems. I would be more worried about what Galahad, Gawain, Lancelot and Arthur are going to do to them. And yes, Bergisa adores her sister-in-law, but she's constantly getting in their way. It's just better to watch from a distance.

Natalie: You'll find out what happened to them today. I hope you don't totally hate me when you're done. This was all my muse's idea, but I liked it. I never really had an antagonist, other than the Saxons. And when Gaheris got written in, he made himself out to be a lovely antagonist. I'm just embellishing on this. And yes, Arthur is going to be the one to look out for. He's not going to be too happy about this. At All.

Evenstar-mor2004: Well, that was creative. I'll keep that in mind, but I think that something more is required.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yes they were kidnapped. I needed a story twist. I'm glad you like the scene with Lancelot griping at his wife. And I'm glad you thought Chapter 57 was "Happiness"! That fills me with happiness!

The green lama: I'm glad you like it. Keep reading. It only gets better. I hope.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you like Lancelot. Just cause he's married, doesn't mean he stops being a pain. Of course Morgaine's witty. She's the one who paid Melinus to make Lancelot jealous. ;) I hope you continue to read this. And of course, CLIFFIES! They're what I do the best.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I don't know. Are they all right? I guess you'll have to keep reading and find out. And they will get what's coming to them. But it's not all of Gawain's family. Just Gaheris. Everyone else has accepted her with open arms.

Anyone I missed. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

Chapter Sixty

Galahad staggered, his eyes starting to take on that icy look that they'd had when Morgaine had disappeared from the Wall when she was 14. Gawain closed his eyes momentarily, before taking charge. He knew that look; Galahad was moments away from falling apart. His own heart was crumbling at the loss of his wife, his beloved little girl and both of his sons, but he knew he had to keep his wits about him if he expected to get his family back. "Tell us everything, Mother."

"Two nights ago, Morgaine, Bergisa, Medora and I put the children to bed. Morgaine stayed behind to tell them a story. When I came to bed later that night, they were gone. Someone had sliced through the fabric in the back of the tent, and stolen the four of them away."

"What does this have to do with the Romans?"

"There was a Roman convoy that came through the other day. Lamorak asked if they'd seen a woman with her three children. They told him that a beautiful black haired woman with three children, including a blond haired little girl were sold into slavery at the post almost forty miles east of here."

"Where's Gaheris?" Gawain demanded, his eyes blazing.

Marian shook her head, "We haven't seen him since Morgaine disappeared."

Galahad stood up with a roar, "That's because he was one of those that sold her!"

Though it broke his heart to admit it, Gawain nodded in agreement. "We should find any of your cousins or brothers that remain. And someone should head back to Britain. If the Romans have Morgaine and the children, we'll need Arthur."

Gawain nodded, leaving the tent. "Lance is the fastest of us all."

Lancelot looked up at the sound of his name, seeing the fury in Galahad's eyes. This did not bode well for any who got into his way. "Where's Morgaine?"

"There was a Roman convoy that came through yesterday. Morgaine, Archie, Sanora and little Ryan have been sold into slavery."

"Ryan is six months old!" Lancelot protested, starting to get furious.

"We know. We're his fathers, remember? You have to go get Arthur."

"Arthur?" Lancelot asked, "That's a month long trip."

"We need him. If the Romans have sold her into slavery, we need a Roman who can either get them freed or buy them back. You have to leave immediately. We'll stay here and try to get a handle on her tracks."

Lancelot nodded, turning toward his father's tent. Packing his few belongings took no time and then he was back on Bartholomew. "I'll return as soon as I can get Arthur."

"Talk to Merlin. If I know the old man, he'll send some of his own people to save his only daughter," Gawain ordered, receiving a sharp nod from the older man.

Bergisa looked up at her husband, knowing that for the sake of time, she had to stay behind. "Ride hard. But be careful. I hate you," she murmured, her eyes tearing.

Lancelot, smiling at the familiar phrase, leaned down and captured her lips with his for a desperate kiss, "I hate you too, my own. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Turning the stallion toward the northwest, Lancelot kicked the horse hard, sending him on a hard gallop across the plains.

Galahad, his eyes cold and his temper precarious, glanced at Gawain. "You were right. I should have known they'd try to do something. Damn it! They've been planning this for….I don't even know! Weeks? Months?"

Gawain laid a hand on his shoulder. "Right now, our only concern is trying to find someone who might have been involved. And try to come up with something to tell Arthur so that he won't kill us. We promised him we'd protect her, Galahad. Arthur is not going to be very happy with either one of us."

Galahad nodded, taking a deep breath. Gareth and Aggravaine came running just then. "We heard about Morgaine. Anything we can do to help, just tell us."

"We have to try and find either my cousins or my brothers. They have something to do with this. I can feel it in my gut," the youngest Knight insisted, his jaw clenched with fury.

Gareth nodded, "I'll head east. Aggravaine can take the north."

"Gawain, you take the west. I'll take the south. Meet back here in two moons time."

They nodded, before heading at a run for their horses. Gareth found Lovell, Ferant, and Alphegus nearly half a day's ride from the camp. Drawing a blade, he approached their fire stealthily. Resting the sharpened blade on the closest man's shoulder, he immediately got the reaction he desired from him. Alphegus sat bolt upright, every muscle locked in consternation. "Well, gentlemen, what a fine pickle you find yourselves in," Gareth greeted them, his eyes shining in the meager fire light.

Ferant spoke first. "We were returning home. We couldn't support the plan any further."

"Galahad is breaking; just like he broke before. I can't believe you were so stupid to believe that taking Morgaine and her children away would fix whatever problems you had with her relationship with Galahad and Gawain. I was there the first time her brother sent her away. We all thought she was dead. Your cousin became cold and hard. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat. I was one of the lucky ones who managed to get away before Galahad broke open my head! You're going to saddle up and then you're going to come back to camp with me." Looking from face to face, he spoke dryly, "And if you survive the end of Galahad's blade, frankly I'll be surprised. And if you survive Galahad, I'd start praying immediately that you survive **my** little brother!"

The other three men nodded, saddling up and following Gareth back to the camp. Galahad and Gawain were arguing heatedly in Latin, their shouting reverberating through the air. Gawain's fist pulled back and connected across Galahad's cheek. Smaller and not nearly as sturdy as Gawain, Galahad's head snapped back and he staggered. When he turned back to look at him, there was blood leaking from his split lower lip. His eyes were shining and Gareth could tell that he was moments from breaking once more. But, somehow, the fight with Gawain had reminded him of his resolve. Galahad's eyes smoldered with fury at the sight of the men with Gareth. "I found your cousins, Galahad."

Galahad pulled the back of his gauntlet across his mouth, wiping away the blood from his lip and chin. His eyes blazed and he lunged at the closest one -Lovell- his fists slamming repeatedly into his face. Lovell shouted in surprise, his arms going up to try and protect his face. Gawain stepped forward and pulled Galahad back, pinning his arms behind him. Galahad's eyes were blazing, fury spitting at his cousins. Repeatedly, he yelled the same phrase, "How could you?"

Finally, Gareth could see the defeat in his eyes and Galahad let out a great, sorrowful scream, buckling under the weight of his grief. "Ah Gods, no!" he sobbed, dropping to his knees and bowing forward.

Slamming the side of his fist into the ground, Galahad was boneless as Gawain pulled him up and held him close to him, curly head tucked under Gawain's chin. Gawain's hand held him there as Galahad sobbed. "I lost her once, Gawain. I can't lose her again. It almost killed me the first time."

Gawain nodded against his head. "I know, Gal. We'll get our Lady back, I promise. We'll get her back."

Galahad cried in his best friend's arms, before he finally slipped away into unconscious, as a result of the sleeping draught Gawain had stolen from Morgaine's bags and slipped into his best friend's ale. Gawain moved into a crouch and hauled the boy up over his shoulder. Taking him into his mother's tent, he laid him on the bed. Brushing away the curls from his eyes, Gawain left without a look back. He pointed at the fire in the middle of the camp, his eyes stern and unforgiving. "You're lucky I have a longer temper than Galahad. Tell me everything. From the beginning and don't leave anything out."

Ferant, Alphegus and Lovell went where he directed, sitting across the fire from him and Gareth. Aggravaine stood just out of the firelight, arms crossed and imposing. The three listened with growing horror as the plan for Morgaine and her children came out…first in halting sentences and then in easier statements. Lovell looked abashed as he recounted the only thing that could make Gawain lose his temper. "Urien promised we wouldn't hurt them. They were only children. We were going to turn them over to the Romans and let them take them from there. But Urien broke his word."

Gareth, seeing that Gawain wasn't going to ask, did. "What did he do? Are the children all right?"

"The children are fine." Taking a deep breath and glancing at his brothers, Alphegus plowed on, "He raped her."

Gawain, up till then the picture of calm, swore violently. "You tell Galahad that, you won't live past the telling," he warned, before asking resignedly, "Which way did they go?"

"I don't know. After we found out what he'd done, we left. We couldn't condone rape," Ferant whispered, looking down at his hands.

"But you could condone kidnapping?" Gawain roared, fury flowing through his veins like blood. Taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, he spoke, "Get out of my sight before I decide to kill you where you sit."

The three men glanced at each other unsure, before scrambling as Gawain roared, "Go!"

Gareth laid a gentle hand on his little brother's shoulder. "We'll find her."

"When?" he asked plaintively, before getting up and moving away from the firelight. Gareth grabbed Aggravaine, shaking his head slightly. "Let him go. He needs to be able to break down, too."

Away from prying eyes, Gawain dropped to his knees with a sob. Looking up at the brightly shining moon, he implored its deity, "Please, watch over my wife. See that she is safe. And protect our children. Let them know that we're coming for them. Don't let them forget that we love them."


	61. Chapter 61

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers!

HGandRHForever: You're back! I'm glad you thought it was the best written chapters. Arthur and Lancelot's reaction happen today, as does Galahad's. I'm afraid, he's kinda anti-climactic. But I'll just let you read. The tassies were yummy! ;) You're the second to ask me how I could do that. And you'll see the fate of those that have been taken soon. :( And I'm glad you liked that phrase. He wanted a good slap. He didn't say it wasn't supposed to be from his sister. ;) I'm glad you still love the story as much as you loved it the first day you read. And I'm glad you think it's better than it was at the beginning. That makes me all soft and squishy inside.

the green lama: Your name kinda reminds me of the Emperor's New Groove. Demon Lama! ;) Anyway. I'm glad you liked that chapter. How could he indeed. And we'll see Morgaine soon. Though she will be slightly changed. In more ways than one.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm sorry I made you cry.

Babak: Hi sweetie. I am the captain of cliffhangers everybody! Babak wills it so! (Romeo and Juliet. The Morning After. Good movie!) And yes, Urien will be in **_BIG_** trouble. In more ways that one.

Natalie: I hope you like this chapter. Arthur finds out his sister's fate.

lilstrummrgrl527: I won't I promise. And yes, Urien will be in **_BIG_** trouble. Arthur is going to open a can of whoop ass on his ass.

ZELINIA: No, I don't think that there could be anything worse. Ever. I hope you continue to enjoy. Don't leave me.

Op: Where are you? I miss my lover! Huh:( Come back soon, okay? Love you!

Anyone else I missed, keep reading, okay? Miss you all. Review! It's the button at the bottom. Gotta get there eventually!

Chapter Sixty

Morgaine lay crumpled in the corner of the tent of the Roman commander. Her children had been taken from her, and she could still hear her tiny son's screams as he was torn from her arms. Her body was sore and bruised and she felt dirty. She had been violated in the worst way and she prayed in thanksgiving that her husbands could not see her now. They would never want her after they heard what Urien had forced on her. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut and she struggled to keep her sobs silent. Murmuring under her breath, she questioned of the Gods, "What have we done to desire your wrath?"

Against the back of her eyelids, she could see Galahad, set against the backdrop of Britain. His kilt was fluttering in the wind and he was smiling at her. In her mind she turned around, and there was Gawain as well, laughing at her kindly, his eyes sparkling with her love. Her tiny children came at a run, Ryan in Sanora's little arms. Her heart swelled to see them so free and careless with their love. But as soon as her heart swelled, it broke. If the men who'd taken her children from her were to be believed, she'd never see them or her husbands again. Letting herself sob, she turned slowly onto her back. Above her was a window and the moon shone brightly. "Protect my children from those that have them. And protect my husbands. Guide them to us. Remind them that I love them."

Closing her eyes, she let herself be drawn away, her husbands there to comfort her and love her and laugh with her. And her children there to help her remember what pure love felt like.

Lancelot arrived in Britain two and a half weeks after he'd left Sarmatia. Neither he nor Bartholomew had stopped to rest, slowing to walk when it was absolutely necessary for their health. Arthur was with Guinevere in their chambers, playing with their squealing daughters. Morgause was wandering among the furniture, playing Blind Man's Bluff with her sisters and father. Everything stopped when Lancelot barged suddenly into their room. The frazzled Knight hadn't taken the time to clean up, and he was still covered in sweat and travel-dust. "Arthur!" he called out.

At the desperation in the voice of his trusted second, Arthur whirled toward the door. His first thought was for his sister. "Morgaine?"

Lancelot shook his head, feeling his heart break for his sister's plight. "Morgaine has been kidnapped, Arthur. Galahad's brothers sold her and her children to the Romans. She's gone."

Arthur's jaw tightened, Guinevere easily recognizing the look. Standing from her mending, she gripped Morgause's shoulders. "Morg, go with your sisters to the kitchen. Uncle Lancelot, Papa and I have to have a grown-up talk."

Morgause nodded, taking Viviane's hand and following the two older girls away. Guinevere retook her chair and waited silently for the backlash of Lancelot's statement. To put it lightly, Arthur was furious. "And where the hell were Galahad and Gawain when all of this was happening?"

"They had been sent away. I was sent with them. You know Galahad. He's too trusting. He couldn't believe that his brothers would ever do such a thing. He's kicking himself as much as you're going to be kicking him, Arthur, I assure you."

Moving rapidly toward the doors, he shouted for his 12 year old squires, Lucan and Accolon. The two boys came running and Arthur ordered sharply, "Lucan, send for Merlin and the Knights. Have them meet me in the Chamber of the Round Table. Accolon, run to the stables and tell the grooms to start saddling the horses."

They both nodded, running off to do as told. Tristan and Isolde arrived at the camber first, followed by the rest of the Knights next. "What happened?" Isolde asked, her eyes wide with horror.

"Morgaine and the children were taken and sold to Rome. We're going after them."

"They're in Sarmatia. That's a nearly month long trip."

Lancelot spoke, protesting, "I got here in two and a half weeks. Ride hard and light, stop for nothing."

Tristan moved to the place on the wall where his blade from the Saxon war was hanging. It was time to repay the debt he owed Morgaine. Lacing his belt through the carrier, he turned to look back at Arthur. "Let's go."

Arthur nodded. "Knights ride up. We leave in ten minutes. Guinevere, you and the women stay here. You'll need to tend to the children."

Guinevere immediately blew up. "Like hell! I'm going with you. You'll need a woman. Morgaine is my sister-in-law and I will be there for you."

Arthur went to protest, but Isolde nodded. "She's right, Arthur. You'll need a woman when you find Morgaine. Michelle, Amara, Vanora and I will stay here. We'll watch the children. But you'll need her."

Arthur nodded, conceding to both of them, knowing that there was nothing he could say to change either of their minds. "All right, Guinevere. You can come. But be ready in ten minutes. Pack light and go in your warrior's garb. You'll need it."

Ten minutes later, Merlin -as Arthur's highest ranking advisor still in Britain- was put in charge of Britain. The Knights and their women didn't know when it would be that they would see each other again, so each goodbye was especially poignant. But then Arthur, the five Knights still in Britain, Guinevere, both of his squires and a band of thirty blood-thirsty Woad warriors mounted the fastest horses in all of Britain and were gone. It took them only two weeks of hard riding to arrive at the camp where Galahad and Gawain were still trying to pick up some trace of Morgaine and their children. Seeing their King, Galahad grimaced, whistling sharply at Gawain. Both men moved to meet them. "My King,…."

Arthur's voice was sharp and brooked no room for argument. "What the **hell** happened? And **where the hell** were you? How could you be so **stupid**?"

At every roar from Arthur, both men flinched, their guilt still running rampant. Simultaneously, they reached down and drew the knives they'd sworn their oaths to Morgaine on. Gripping them by the blade, they extended the hilts to Arthur silently. Guinevere, sensing more than seeing that Arthur was seconds away from taking them up on their offers, rushed to waylay her husband. "Arthur, now is not the time. We still have to find Morgaine." Lowering her voice, she spoke for his ears alone, "Remember husband, she loves them. She wouldn't want anything to happen to them."

Arthur nodded, snatching Galahad's blade and hurling it into the ground at Galahad's feet. Galahad flinched widely, knowing as Guinevere did, that Arthur had just paid him the worst recrimination he could have. He'd failed to protect her. And Arthur knew it. "Pick it up, Galahad. I'll deal with you and Gawain when I have my sister back. Do we have any idea where they are? And where are the men who took them?"

Galahad nodded and stooped to scoop up the blade, both of them shoving the daggers back into their boots as Gawain answered, "They've been sent to Eastern Rome, the Byzantine Empire. We don't know which way they've gone, or how to get them back once we get there. And Galahad's brothers haven't returned, though his cousins are in custody. They couldn't go through with the whole plan."

Arthur nodded, turning to the Woads. The Sarmatian people, having never seen the blue-painted warriors, drew back in fear as they dismounted, waiting patiently for orders from their king. "Who are they?" came the muffled whispers from the crowd.

The Woads spoke in their own language for a moment, before speaking to Arthur in Briton, "What shall we do with those who were involved in the attempt?"

"Oh, they'll be handled accordingly," Arthur muttered through clenched teeth. "Bring me the men who took them," he ordered Gawain sharply, not at all like the compassionate man he usually was. Gawain, his heart breaking for his failure to protects his king's beloved sister, only nodded, dropping into a bow with a hand over his heart, before running off. "We're going to take care of these people. And then, we're going to Rome. I have a few favors I can cash in."

Lancelot nodded, his eyes taking in Galahad's heartbroken eyes. He was falling apart. He looked thinner and, if the bags under his eyes were any indication, he wasn't sleeping either. "Just like before," he murmured, watching as the youngest Knight moved listlessly to where Bergisa was offering what comfort she could. Turning to his best friend, he spoke quietly, "Arthur, don't be too hard on Galahad. He's being hard enough on himself as it is."

"Good. I hope he feels terrible for what's happened!" Arthur hissed, his blood boiling on behalf of his little sister's honor.

"Arthur!" Lancelot scolded. "What would Morgaine say to hear your venom? She'd blister your ears with that tongue of hers. And you know it!"

Properly chastised, Arthur ducked his head in shame, knowing that what Lancelot said was true. "I know, Lancelot, you're right. It's not their fault. But they promised, Lance! They promised they'd protect her! I **trusted** them with her! My sister! I can't….we lost her once. And it was the worst thing that happened to me."

"It was also the worst thing that happened to them. They took the loss much harder than you did. They **_love_** her; Morgaine and those three children are their entire worlds. You at least still have your wife, she's safe and sound on the horse beside you. Your children are safe and sound in Britain, under the tender care of Vanora, Isolde and the other women. Imagine what kind of devastation those two must be feeling right now, knowing not whether those that they love most in all the known world are safe. Or whether they'll ever see them again."

Arthur nodded at his lieutenant, watching as Galahad slumped back against his mother's hut, his head in his hands and shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. Gawain and his brothers led the three men to Arthur. Arthur noticed Gareth and nodded once, "Gareth, it's good to see you again."

"You as well, Arthur. I heard you're a King now."

"Aye. Morgaine is a Princess. She wears the mantle of power easily, a lot easier than I ever will."

"Merlin, the Magician, was her father. She was the Heir to all of his prestige and power. Did you honestly think that she wouldn't bear the weight easily?"

"That's why she's my most trusted advisor. Her judgment is sound and her advise always decades ahead of her years. Who are these?"

"Lovell, Alphegus and Ferant. Galahad's cousins. His brothers -Urien, Brenius and Belinus- are still at large. We haven't been able to locate them yet."

Glancing at a stoic Tristan, Arthur gave his former Knight an evil smirk. "Don't worry about them. They will be handled soon enough. I'm sure Tristan can come up with an adequate form of punishment."

Tristan grinned cruelly and Gareth was suddenly reminded of Tristan's penchant for killing. He shivered at the malice and murder evident in the scout's midnight eyes. Arthur smiled; marriage and fatherhood had changed the man for the better, but there were some things that would never change. "Tell me everything you told Galahad and Gawain."

Ferant glanced at his brothers, but a well-placed cuff across the head from Gawain started his tongue moving. "We took her to a Roman encampment 40 miles east of here. They said they had somewhere she would never be found. They took her farther east, her children with them."

"And Urien?" Gawain hissed out, wanting Arthur to know the full extent of Morgaine's fate.

Ferant gulped but replied quietly, just as Galahad joined the group. "He raped her."

Galahad gasped, his skin suddenly ashen. Gawain had not told him, deciding that the three men needed to remain alive until Arthur arrived from Britain. Arthur -his usual common sense blurred with rage- whirled, his fist slamming into Galahad's cheekbone. Bergisa's hand flew to her mouth as she heard the loud _snap!_ as the bone broke. Lancelot moved to take her into his arms, holding her back as Arthur unleashed his fury on the unresisting Knight. Finally Guinevere moved forward, insinuating herself between the two. "That is _enough_, husband," she snapped, her eyes blazing.

Galahad gasped, every exhale a small moan as he fought to regain his composure. One hand fluttered shakily to his ribs, feeling them shift under his hand, and Gawain ducked around his King and Queen, kneeling at the younger man's side. Galahad shook his head, pushing him away gently, before touching Guinevere's leg. "It's all right, Your Majesty."

Guinevere turned to look at him and shook her own head. "No, Galahad, it is not. It was not your fault that Morgaine was taken. We will find her. And we will bring her home. Bergisa!" she snapped, causing the woman to lunge forward, with the question, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Tend to Galahad's wounds. And get him ready to go."

Bergisa nodded, crouching beside Galahad and helping him gingerly to his feet. Galahad moaned as Gawain lifted his arm and helped him limp away. Guinevere turned to her husband. "Get a grip on your temper, husband, or this is going to be an agonizing trip for that boy. Punish those that deserve it."

Turning on her heel, she strode confidently toward the hut the trio had disappeared in to. Arthur turned to look at Tristan, asking in Briton, "Is there a brand for 'kidnapper' in Sarmatian?"

Tristan grinned evilly and nodded. "Yes, My King."

"Good. Do it." Drawing his blade, he rested the tip gently on the hollow just below Ferant's jaw line. "Right there should work perfectly. So that everyone will know what these men have done."

Tristan nodded and shoved a blade into the fire, Lancelot, Dagonet, Bors, Aggravaine and Gareth helping to manhandle the three men to the fireside. Extracting the blade, Tristan advanced menacingly, Bors and Dagonet holding Ferant's arms, while Lancelot kept his head still and tilted back. Pressing the knife to the unprotected flesh caused a scream, Gareth and Aggravaine tightening their grips on the others. Arthur turned his back and walked toward the horses. Gripping Lucan and Accolon's shoulders, he led them away effortlessly. "Michelle would kill me for demonstrating what vengeance is to the both of you."

Inside the hut, Gawain set Galahad on the edge of the bed as Bergisa and a newly arrived Guinevere gently eased the tunic and shirt up and over his head. When the first scream resounded through the hide walls, Gawain could only set his jaw and shakewith barely suppressedfury. Galahad was not so quiet, "Serves them right. I would have killed them."

"This is a punishment much more fitting. Everyone will know of what they have done. They will be welcome nowhere," Guinevere reminded him gently, her hands trailing effortlessly over his bare skin, before she pressed sharply.

Galahad flinched widely, jerking away from her hands. Gawain came over and lifted Galahad's arms, holding him still as Guinevere set each rib quickly. Galahad's teeth bit down hard on his lower lip, as Bergisa and Guinevere wrapped his ribs tightly with strips of cloth before releasing him. Gawain let his arms fall, before he gripped the sides of Galahad's face firmly from behind. Galahad's eyes widened and he tried to struggle free. Bergisa, her eyes filled with sympathy, slipped a gag between his teeth and then trailed her fingers along the ridges of both cheeks. Feeling the break under her fingers, she took a deep breath and then shoved firmly with her thumb. Galahad gave a muffled scream as the bones grated back into place. "Damn it, I wish Morgaine was here. She would have made that painless," Bergisa muttered in Sarmatian, before pulling the gag from Galahad's mouth.

Galahad panted in agony, his chest heaving in pain. Gawain waved the two women from the hut, before helping Morgaine's youngest husband back into his shirt and tunic. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," Galahad whimpered, before pushing himself slowly to his feet. "Riding is going to be a bitch."

"I'd say that will be an accurate assessment. Come on, let's go get saddled up and head out. The less we manage to anger Arthur, the better off the both of us will be."

Galahad nodded and followed Gawain from the tent, the eye over his broken cheekbone starting to swell farther closed with every step. Lancelot and Arthur were talking quietly, before Lancelot turned at the sound of them. "Are we ready to go?"

Galahad nodded, moving to stand beside Dar. "Come on. We need to get a move on. We've already wasted a month."

Everyone mounted, the Knights and Woads following their king out of the camp and sparing no one a single glance. The trip to Rome took nearly three weeks, Galahad growing thinner with every step of his horse. Gawain, ordered by Lancelot to do so, kept a close eye on his best friend. Once in Rome, the two Knights were sent to the healer. Galahad kicked and screamed the whole way. It took Gawain, Lancelot and Arthur to hold the distraught young man down as the old healer drugged him, putting him to sleep immediately. Galahad slept for the rest of the day and late into the following afternoon under Gawain's watchful eyes, as Arthur met with his allies.

First, Arthur went to see the Bishop Germanius. He hated to ask the weaseling little man anything, but Germanius had been his father's good friend. When that didn't pan out, he went next to see Alecto, now a Bishop and still the Pope's favorite. Alecto received them happily. He smiled at the once young commander, seeing the lines of age and power etched into the corner of his eyes. "What can I do for you, Sire?"

"I have a favor, Alecto. My sister has been kidnapped and sold into slavery."

Alecto frowned. He well remembered the young sable-haired sister of the man in front of him. They were of the same age, Alecto only two years older than the girl. He had been surprised to learn that Arthur and Morgaine were not blood related, despite their similarities in appearance and the depth of their devotion to one another. He, personally, had drawn up the draft that had officially adopted her into the Castus Clan. "What can I do, Arthur? You name it, and it is done, done to the last dotted 'i' and crossed 't'."

Arthur nodded, leaning forward on his palms. "I need an edict that declares my sister and her children free, should we find them."

Alecto turned to his desk, nodding once. "You shall have it. You saved the life of my mother and I. We are forever in your debt. And your sister rescued my mother from a life of abuse. I am forever in her debt."

Arthur nodded, watching as the young Bishop drew up the edict. Calling to a groom, Alecto told the older man, "Saddle my horse. I'm going to Constantinople."

Arthur jerked in surprise. He had not considered that the young man would go to the East with them. "Alecto…," he started to protest.

"No, Arthur. I'm going. If you need it, you'll have my authority at your side. That is better than just having my signature on a piece of parchment," Alecto insisted, watching the older man. "Besides, I have had a strange urge to see Morgaine again. She was kind to me while I was in Britain, way back then."

Arthur nodded with a small smile, the familiarity of that statement causing a deep pang in the depths of his chest. He just wanted his sister back in his arms, immediately. "She was kind to everyone way back then. She still is. The depths of Briton devotion is such that I managed to get Woad warriors onto horses to come and rescue her. She has married my Knights to some amazing women. You would be proud of her choices."

Alecto nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Of that I have no doubt, Arthur. She always did have a sound head on her shoulders. I'm sure you're more proud of her than I ever could be," he taunted, getting a small smile and a nod, before standing, "Come, let's be off. There is no longer any time to waste."

Arthur nodded and followed the young man from his antechamber. Galahad, looking rested and fed though still sporting the bruises from his beating at Arthur's hands, was prancing his horse around in circles. Arthur knew from personal experience that Galahad only did so when he was highly stressed or greatly concerned. It was his way of working out his problems. "Are we ready?" he inquired of the Youngest.

Galahad looked down at his king and replied, "The sooner I have my wife in my arms, the happier I will be."

Arthur nodded and swung atop Dan. Waiting for Alecto to situate himself, the men and women in Arthur's entourage headed for the East, to the Byzantine Empire….and hopefully to Morgaine as well.

Nearly two months later, they finally arrived in Constantinople. After some careful probing and blatant questions, they learned of the man who had bought the young woman and her children. Arthur flinched when he found out where they'd been sold. "The hippodrome" might have been a death sentence for a respectable young woman and three very young children. Chariot races, legal prostitution, games rich in blood and gore; such was the hippodrome's fare.

The hippodrome was the home of all the _debaucheries _Rome could offer its citizens.


	62. Chapter 62

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers. ;)

Babak: I hope you think that Arthur went homicidal on everybody enough. And yeah, you'll come to understand why Arthur is the way he is later. I hope you continue to enjoy this chapter. And yes, Tristan is allowed to go hunting today. It's going to be fun!

the green lama: I apologize for that. It's complicated. Galahad promised Arthur that he would always protect her. No matter what. And to suddenly find out that Morgaine is missing, Arthur –however irrational this is- blames the person who said he'd protect her. Thus why he goes all homicidal on Galahad. It's not because it was his fault, it's because Arthur thinks its his fault. And yes, Alecto is very helpful. And Guinevere is just about the only thing that can keep her husband from killing people. Yes, we all love the funky green lama! ;)

Natalie: Yeah, that's why Galahad lies to her. You'll read it later. I hope you continue to enjoy. And I'm glad you thought I painted Arthur well. I wanted to get him to react in away he would have reacted to his sister's abduction. Please read! Morgaine comes back.

lilstrummrgrl527: Read on! You'll see what Arthur does! And yes, I feel bad for them too. And no, no killing off! I promise. I don't want you to die.

dw: Where have you been? Have you liked everything else? I hope so. And you'll see what Morgaine said to her bruised husband.

op: Oh! You're making me blush! One of the best? Really? Aw shucks! I'm glad you liked it.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: They find her today. I hope you like it.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Arthur stared at the slave dealer in shock, "You're sure you sold them to the hippodrome?"

"Of course I'm sure." There was a depraved leer as he continued, "She's a beautiful little thing, so was the little girl. When the boys are older, they can be taught the games and make a few men a pretty penny."

Galahad managed to stay where he was only by the combined force of Lancelot and Gawain, each holding tightly to a wrist to keep him immobile. Alecto, horrified by the implications of that statement, looked up at Arthur in concern. "What do we do now?"

"We go to the hippodrome," Gawain said, shaking his head slightly in horror.

Arthur looked at Lancelot. "Go on. I'll meet up with you there. Look after Alecto."

Lancelot, knowing what Arthur was going to do, nodded and led the men from the tent. Alecto stayed behind, looking at Arthur calmly. "Go with them, Alecto. I'll meet up with you soon."

Alecto nodded, swinging up onto his horse again. Each of the Knights swung up onto their horses, whirling the horses around and setting out for the hippdrome. When his Knights were gone, Arthur rolled up the sleeves of his cotton shirt and punched the dealer viciously. Ten minutes later, he left the tent, flipping his sleeves back down. He swung up onto Dan and rode hard to catch up with his men.

When the man's wife entered the tent an hour later, she screamed at the brutal beating that had obviously befallen her husband.

Arthur caught up with his men and their pace quickened. The party moved through the village, the Knights with their hands on the hilts of their swords, keeping wary eyes on the men who eyed the two women with them so lustfully. At the hippodrome, Arthur looked up at Alecto. "You don't have to come inside. We can handle it from here."

Alecto shook his head, brushing back his robes. "No. I'm going. Lead on, Arthur, and I shall follow you."

Arthur nodded, leading his Knights, the Bishop and the Woad warriors into the hippodrome. Ignoring the going-ons, Arthur approached the proprietor. "We're looking for a woman."

"My girls don't do groups," he replied callously, without looking up, scribbling in his ledgers.

Arthur's hands tightened, before he decked the man hard across the face. The tiny little man flew backward, his eyes wide as he stared at the man in front of him. Everyone just watched passively as Arthur's fists made a mangled mess of the man's face. Guinevere finally nudged her horse to her husband's side and touched his head. He looked up at her, nodding once at the look in her eyes, before pulling away.

Alecto cleared his throat authoritatively. Wiping a rivulet of blood from his chin, the proprietor glanced over at the sound, back at Arthur and then nearly got whiplash wrenching his head to Alecto, as the realization of a **Christian** Bishop standing there, in the **hippodrome** sunk in. "My Lord Bishop!" he breathed in surprise, his eyes wide.

Alecto gave an icy smile and spoke, a hint of steel behind his soft voice. "We're looking for a woman. Very beautiful. Short, with black hair and silvery-blue eyes. She has three children, two boys and a little girl. One of the boys is barely a child, no more than a baby."

The man thought for a moment, before nodding. "You're talking about Theodora?"

Arthur shook his head, snapping in fury, "Unless her name was changed, no. I'm talking about my sister, the Princess Morgaine of Britain."

The man jerked at the malice in his eyes, scrambling backward on his back to avoid another beating. Moving to intercept her husband, Guinevere rested a gentle hand on his arm, sensing the undercurrent of rage that was flowing like quicksilver through his blood. Morgaine was the only thing Arthur couldn't think straight on; when she was in trouble, Arthur knew no discretion to get her out of it. "Arthur, calm down," she admonished softly, squeezing his bicep in an attempt to offer some comfort.

Arthur nodded, his own hand coming up to rest upon his wife's. Seeing that the Queen had her husband under control, Alecto spoke again, "May I see the one you call 'Theodora'?"

"Of course. Let me go and get her. I don't think she's with a customer," he stuttered, scrambling to his feet and dashing away.

Galahad, at the insinuation in that statement, nearly went crimson with fury. Knowing the feeling well, Gawain reached out and touched his best friend's arm. "Calm, Gal. We'll never accomplish anything if we lose our heads now."

Disgruntled but calmer, Arthur glanced at Alecto. "The odds that Theodora is Morgaine?"

Alecto shrugged, inquiring, "How many other petite, black-haired women do you know with three children?"

Arthur shook his head in frustration, remarking snidely, "I don't know. Rome's a big empire." Alecto, knowing the emotion wasn't directed at him, only smiled at the agitated king and waited patiently for "Theodora" to arrive.

Suddenly there was a loud sob and the cry of two names, the sound of the voice well loved among the party of Knights. "Sarmatian! Gawain!"

Galahad, his ears drinking in the sound of that voice, whirled, taking in the tear-streaked form of Morgaine as she hobbled toward them painfully. Dismounting, he took three great strides and pulled her into his arms, practically pulling her off her feet. "My Gods, Nazneen," he whispered, burying his face in her curls. Pulling back, he pushed the unwashed strands of hair from her face, looking into her painted face. Pulling a cloth from his boot, he started to gently wipe the suffocating make-up away. When she was looking a bit more like his "Nazneen" again, he pulled her close once more. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?

She shook her head against his chest. She didn't answer the question, and a red flag went up in the minds of all the men there. "How did you…? Never mind, I don't care," she whimpered, starting to sob. Pulling back, she trailed her fingers over her husband's face. When Gawain joined them, her fingers flashed between each of their faces. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Galahad's bruises and again when she came across the ridge of barely healed bone in his cheek. "What happened to you?" she demanded, her voice trembling with tears and concern.

Galahad, knowing that she would get very angry with her brother, just shrugged and evaded the question, "I got into a fight."

Knowing when she was being lied to, Morgaine cocked an eyebrow. "Liar," she accused, before just letting the comment go.

Gawain touched her shoulder gently, questioning, "Where are the children?'

This question reminded her of her youngest son and she started to sob once again, her hands gripping the cotton of Galahad's shirt in a fierce grip. "I don't have Ryan. They won't give him to me."

Arthur grabbed the proprietor by the collar and hauled him onto his toes. Arthur was a tall man and towered some six inches over the other. "The baby. Where is he?"

"My wife took him home. She won't part with him," the flustered man stuttered, his eyes wide with fear of the man in front of him.

"I don't care about your wife! That's my nephew! Get him! Now!" Arthur roared, shoving the man away from himself, sending him stumbling backwards to keep his balance.

The man quailed under Arthur's righteous rage, dashing toward his wife's quarters. He came back, with a squalling Ryan in his arms and an equally loud wife on his heels. "No! He's my son! Give him back!" the woman screamed, worry and fear floating through her eyes.

Ryan, seeing his real mother, screamed even louder and held out his arms for her. "Momma!" he cried, his hands grasping at thin air.

Gawain took the little boy gently from the man, the threat in his blue eyes enough to keep both man and wife away from reunited mother and child. Bouncing the baby lightly, he smiled at his son. Though recognition floated through the baby's eyes, he continued to reach for his mother. Gawain brought him to where Morgaine still stood in Galahad's arms. Morgaine took the baby and held him close, Ryan quieting immediately, his head tucked under the curve of her chin. Gawain took Morgaine's arm, his thumb caressing the flesh of her upper arm absently, trying to soothe her trembling. "Where's Sanora? And Archie? Are they all right?"

She nodded. "Yes. They're fine. They stayed with me in my cell. They're there now."

Gawain nodded, shifted his grip on her arm and pulled her up, kissing her deeply…drinking in the taste of her. Morgaine moaned at the love and adoration in his touch, reminded once again that while Galahad clasped her possessively, Gawain always cradled her gently. Her lips moved under his own and his heart soared at her response. Galahad didn't let her go, afraid that to do so meant she would disappear. "I'm going to go and get the children. I'll be right back," Gawain told his best friend, before grabbing the upper arm of the sniveling little proprietor, snarling, "Take me to her cell."

The man nodded shakily, leading him down the corridors at a run. "It's there," he said, pointing at it and handing over the key-ring to the menacing blond Knight.

Gawain shoved him aside and into a wall, before moving toward the tiny room. Sanora, seated on the bed, saw someone moving toward them from the corner of her eye and looked up. At the sight of the man there, her whole face lit up. She lunged from the bed and grasped the bars tightly, shouting joyously, "Papa!"

Gawain's heart broke at the joy on her face and tears in her eyes. Archie joined his sister at the door, his voice mingling with hers in calling for his father. "Papa! Have you seen momma? And Ryan?"

"Your Momma and brother are fine. Your Daddy has them. Are you two all right? Did they hurt you?"

Sanora shook her head, reaching through the bars to touch her father's hand. "I missed you so much, Papa," she whimpered.

Unlocking the door in no time at all, Gawain ripped it open and gathered the two children close, kissing each of them on the head. "I missed you too, my Little Princess. I missed you both so much," he sobbed, burying his face in their shoulders.

The three sat there for a long moment, relishing in the fact that they were together again. Gawain pulled back and examined both of his children. Sanora's flaxen hair was an unwashed as her mother's but her blue eyes were steady and glistening with tears. Archie's ebony curls were long and disordered, but his ivy eyes were brimming with excitement. "I want Daddy," Archie said, wanting his father more than he wanted anything else.

Gawain nodded. Archie was Galahad's son first and foremost, just as Sanora was his daughter first. He kissed each of their heads again and pulled them close for a second. Then, scooping them up into his arms -one seated on each hip- Gawain strode from the corridor and rejoined the group. At the sight of his Daddy, Archie let out a joyous shout, "Daddy!"

Galahad, Morgaine still in his arms, craned his head around. "Archie!" he called back, opening his arm to catch the rocketing little body as the youth lunged at his father and mother. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Daddy. They didn't hurt us. Momma cried all the time. And she's hurt."

Galahad looked stricken at that information, scooping up Morgaine and carrying her to a bench near the wall. "Where? What happened?"

"Nothing. It's just my leg. After Urien…." she paused as Galahad's face darkened like a thundercloud, before trying again, "The Roman we were sold to….he sliced open my thigh so I couldn't run. Like I would have left my children there. They took them away right after we were sold. I didn't see them again until we got here. And I hadn't see Ryan since we were still in Sarmatia."

Arthur had stayed back, letting her husbands reassure themselves that she was safe, before stepping forward. Though pale and slight, she was just as beautiful as ever. "Rhiannon," he murmured, using his nickname for her.

Morgaine's head flashed up in surprise. As far as she had known, her brother was still in Britain, oblivious to her plight. But there he was, tall and powerful, his jade green eyes filled with tears at seeing her safe. Bursting into fresh tears at the sight of her brother, she lunged awkwardly into his arms, "Oh Arthur! I want to go home!" she sobbed, burying her face in his chest.

Lifting her against him slightly to keep most of her own weight off her leg, Arthur nodded against her hair. His fingers trailed absently through her curls, the tips massaging her scalp gently. His eyes slipped closed, tears running down his cheeks and into her hair. Looking at each of his Knights in turn, he saw the same determination in their eyes that was in Galahad and Gawain's own. It was time to go home. In Britain, Morgaine would be safe and protected. Ducking his head over hers, he murmured, "All right, baby sister. We'll go home. I promise. You'll never have to leave Camelot ever again, if you don't choose to."

Galahad held Ryan on one hip, his other hand resting on the top of Archie's head, with Archie wrapping himself tightly around his Daddy's other leg. Sanora was held tightly in her father's arms, sitting on his crossed arms as was her usual custom. Her blue eyes surveyed the scene calmly, her head resting against her father's shoulder. "Let's go home," Arthur ordered.

Swinging Morgaine up into his arms, he set her in his saddle, perched on the front precariously. "Stay here for a second. I need to talk to Tristan."

Morgaine nodded, too tired to care. Alecto came to the side of the horse, smiling kindly up at the young woman. "It's good to see you again, Morgaine. I have missed you."

Morgaine looked down at him, smiling as she realized that the young man she had once talked with was now a Bishop. "Hello Alecto. How are you?"

"Better, now that we have you and your children back in our custody. How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore. But I'll be okay. I always am."

Alecto nodded, squeezing her good leg lightly in comfort, before moving toward his own horse. Galahad moved forward, handing her a canvas sack. Morgaine smiled at it and pulled open the flap easily. Handing her their son, Galahad watched as Morgaine slipped his slumbering body into the sack, and closed it again, his tiny head resting on her breast, his thumb firmly in his mouth. Galahad rubbed a soft hand over the baby's back, before pulling the boy's mother down for a chaste kiss. Morgaine's hand reached up slowly and cupped his cheek, before he moved away and lifted Archie into his arms and onto the front of Dar's saddle.

Arthur pulled Tristan a ways from the group. "I want you to find Galahad's brothers and execute them. I don't care how you do it. But no one kidnaps my sister and expects to live."

Tristan nodded, bowing slightly to his king, one hand clasped over his heart. "Galahad and Gawain? You know they will want vengeance."

"They're concern for Morgaine will far outweigh any vengeance they desire. Bring me back something that attests to their destruction. And bring me Gaheris. Alive. I will deal with **him** myself."

Tristan nodded, watching the fury transform his king from the kind commander he'd always known to an avenging older brother. He could only imagine that if something like this happened to Bergisa, he would be the same way. Coming to Bergisa, he gave her a message for his wife, making her memorize it word for word. Then, standing there for a moment, he gripped his sister's arms gently in his hands. Pulling her close, he tucked her tiny form under his chin. Bergisa burrowed in her brother's arms, listening to his whispered words, "Thank the Gods that you are safe, sister. I cannot imagine the terror that Arthur felt when he learned of her disappearance."

Bergisa snuggled deeper into her brother's arms, accepting the doting kiss to her forehead, before letting him step back. "I love you, Sister."

"I love you, too, Brother. I will give Isolde your message."

Lancelot joined his wife then as Tristan mounted up and wheeled away. Riding for the west, with both Gareth and Aggravaine accompanying him back. Lancelot kissed her head gently. "Come on; Arthur wants to leave."

Bergisa nodded, letting her husband kiss the breath from her, before letting him lift her into her saddle. She smiled at his back as he mounted Bartholomew. Bergisa had a feeling that when they reached home, all of the wives would be getting smothered. She hoped they could handle it.

Arthur mounted behind Morgaine, Ryan sleeping peacefully -for the first time in a long time- in the bag across her chest. Morgaine's arms were wrapped around the little boy, her eyes closed in exhaustion. One of Arthur's long arms looped around her waist, pulling her back into the concave of his body. Her head lolled against his chest and she fought sleep for a moment to look at both of her elder children. Sanora was curled up in her father's lap, slumped against Gawain's chest. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat against his ribs. The eldest, Archie, was fighting sleep valiantly, trying to keep an eye on his mother and siblings. But finally, the feeling of Galahad's fingers stroking across his back, caused him to slip into oblivion against his own father's chest. Taking the reins in his gloved hands, Arthur's eyes drifted from each person. Tightening his grip around her, he kissed her head gently. "Sleep, sister. You're safe now. And nothing further can hurt you, not so long as we're here. You have my word."

Morgaine sighed softly, her eyes catching those of Galahad's and Gawain's, bestowing on each man a tired smile before she slipped away. "I love you all. You are my world."

Arthur stroked her hair as he felt her slump against him. "Good night, Morgaine. God bless you." Guinevere joined him at his side, her heart filled with love for the man she'd married. She reached out and touched her sister-in-law's head, before leaning to kiss it gently. Arthur touched her face, reveling in the fact that she was safe and at his side. Looking up at his remaining Knights, his face grew serious. "Let's head home." Glancing at Galahad, he spoke, "I hope you have nothing to return for in Sarmatia."

"Only Mary-Megan."

"Tristan will bring Mary-Megan when he's done with his own task. Morgaine adores that horse, and he knows it."

"Where has Tristan gone?" Dagonet asked, looking around curiously.

"He's gone to enact a king's vengeance. There is no one I trust more than Tristan to see to justice in respect to the kidnappers."

Galahad, well aware of the kind of justice Arthur spoke, couldn't bring himself to feel remorse for his brothers. They had taken what was most dear to his heart, without thought to what that would do to him. Whatever happened to them, they deserved.

That night, when they stopped for camp, Guinevere and Bergisa sent the men for water. Pulling Morgaine into the secluded shadows of the trees, the two women helped to bathe the make-up and filth of her experience from her body. They didn't speak, just cleansed her body over and over again. Finally Morgaine burst into tears, burying her face in the curve of Bergisa's neck. Bergisa pointed at a blanket, smiling as Guinevere wrapped it around the sobbing woman's shoulders. Guinevere touched her sister-in-law's shoulder gently, before moving to sit with her husband and his Knights in the circle of firelight.

Bergisa's fingers trailed lazily up and down her best friend's shoulder as she rocked back and forth in a soothing rhythm. Her voice was soft and gentle as she sought to calm the sobbing woman in her arms. "It's all right, Morgaine. You're safe now."

Morgaine sobbed. "They'll hate me when they know what I've done."

"You have done nothing, Morgaine. Nothing! They know what Urien did. Ferant told them."

Morgaine shuddered, the recollections rushing like water through the crevices of her memory. "I am dirty."

"So let them make you clean again. They love you; they never stopped."

Morgaine continued to cry, nodding once. Bergisa kissed her temple, before moving back. "Let me go and get the two of them. I think they want to smother you with affection for a bit."

Morgaine nodded and watched as Bergisa moved away. The children were asleep by the fire, peaceful and content under the watchful eyes of their uncles. Galahad looked up at her, both his and Gawain's eyes drifting to the shadows where she sat as Bergisa spoke. Standing, they said their good nights and moved toward the shadows. Galahad arrived first. "Nazneen?"

She shifted, the moonlight shining off her wet hair. Gawain crouched beside her, his hand moving slowly to touch her head. He was careful to make sure that she knew he was reaching for her. Her eyes slipped closed in bliss as the tender and loving touch smoothed through her hair. "I love you, Lady," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her sweetly.

She burst into sobs once more, her right hand coming up to cup his cheek softly as their lips moved together in a chaste embrace. Pulling away, Gawain let Galahad lift her into his arms and carry her deeper into the shadows of the trees. Setting her on her feet, he stepped back a step. Reaching slowly, he gripped the edges of the blankets. Her fingers gripped the cloth fiercely in response, nervous about letting them see her as she was now. Bending, Galahad pressed teasing kisses to her knuckles, his smile unseen as her hands loosened their grip on the fabric. He pulled the blanket open and away, in awe of her naked, breathtaking beauty. He tossed the blanket backward at Gawain, who spread it out on the ground, before moving gently toward her. Her eyes were wary, but trusting as he ran the very tip of his finger down the slope of her breast. Looking up to meet her eyes, sapphire clashed with jade, and he murmured softly, "Beautiful."

Morgaine blushed at the soft homage in his voice, letting him touch her. That night, the two Knights only traced and explored her body, comforting her with their love and soothing her with their touch. They pushed her to do nothing and gave her everything she offered and more. And when Galahad lay in front of her, his fingers laced with hers and Gawain was pressed to her back, his chin in its usual spot on her shoulder, she sighed in contentment and fell asleep, feeling safe and loved for the first time since she had been taken from them months before.

The next morning, Galahad dressed and moved away, going to retrieve a gown from her luggage. Arthur was sitting by the fire, boiling coffee. He was staring at something in his palm intently, his fingers stirring the contents of his hand absently. "Arthur?" Galahad asked, pouring two mugs for him and Gawain.

Arthur jerked, looking up at his youngest Knight. "Did you notice anything different about her?"

"She's nervous and scared, but she'll be okay. She lets us touch her and she believes us when we tell her we love her. She's wounded, but like all injuries do, they'll heal, leaving only scars behind. Gawain mentioned last night, after she'd fallen asleep, that she doesn't have her wedding rings. They must have taken them to melt them down or something. I don't care. We'll buy her new ones when we get back home to Britain. She can have any ring she wants. At least she's safe."

Arthur nodded, closing his hand and holding it out to him. "The proprietor gave me these while you and Gawain were enjoying your reunion with your wife and children."

Galahad looked at him quizzically, holding out his palm for whatever it was Arthur was offering. His eyes widened in surprise and joy as two silver bands spilled into his hand. "Her wedding rings."

"I thought you might give them back to her. It might be just what she needs."

Galahad grinned and bowed slightly, "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur nodded once, before glancing up, "I'm sorry about what happened in Sarmatia. I let my temper get away from me."

Galahad shook his head. "No, Arthur. I understand. I would rather you took it out on me then and kept a cool head later, than loose your head with someone we needed to help us get her back. If you'll excuse me?"

"Go on, Galahad. Enjoy the rest of the day. I think we'll camp here for awhile, before riding out."

Galahad nodded and disappeared back into the trees. The other two were awake as Galahad rejoined them, Gawain's lips moving carefully over the dark skin of her neck. Morgaine was giggling as his lips tickled her flesh, their bodies shielded from sight by a blanket. Galahad rolled his eyes and set down the mugs, chucking a tiny rock at the back of his best friend's head. It connected with a fleshy _thunk! _Gawain jerked away, his face flashing in an annoyed grimace. "Damn it, Gal! What the hell was that for?"

"I have something. And I couldn't exactly give it to you both with you all over her."

Gawain glowered at him, pulling away as Galahad dropped the ring he'd given Morgaine into his lap. Morgaine looked up at Galahad as he touched her head. "What's wrong, Sarmatian?"

"Nothing's wrong, Nazneen. I thought you might want this back," he murmured, taking her left hand and slipping the ring over the finger, fitting it snuggly against the base of the digit. Her lips trembled at the sight of the silver against her skin. Gawain took her right hand and replaced his ring as well, kissing it in a familiar gesture of love and possession. "I love you both. So much," she whispered, her hands coming up to touch each of their faces.

"And we love you, Nazneen. More than you can ever truly know," Galahad assured her, kissing her deeply. Releasing the last amount of her fear, Morgaine kissed back, letting herself enjoy their seduction again.

Nearly two months later, Morgaine awoke from her place on Arthur's saddle to see the spires of Camelot gleaming in the sunrise. She had ridden Dan in front of her brother the entire trip, sleeping through most of it. Looking up at his face now, she murmured happily, "It's beautiful Arthur. It's so good to be home."

Arthur nodded, kissing her temples. "It is good to have you home, sister. This place was so dark without your laughter."


	63. Chapter 63

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers. ;)

Chris: You already know I think you're God. So, we'll talk to you later today. You're my muse baby!

Mademoiselle Morte: Welcome to the Party! I agree! Romans are bastards! I'm glad you commiserated with Morgaine. Today Tristan gets vengeance in her name. I hope you like. Please continue to read.

HGandRHForever: I'm glad you liked Homicidal Arthur! He was fun to write. Arthur so rarely looses his composure. And yes, you get to see Tristan go on the proverbial warpath. Today, Urien and his fellows are punished for their treatment of Morgaine.

the green lama: Yep, they got her back! I think I can pull 100 chapters. It should be fun! I can't promise everyday if I'm doing 100 chapters, though I think I can do every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I hope. We'll see. And the hippodrome **was** real. The Empress Theodora, Justinian's wife, actually met Her husband because she was his mistress at the hippodrome. It's the home of all Rome's debaucheries. I wasn't joking.

dw: I commiserate. I have been busy with relationships, school and work. It's not been fun. I'm glad you liked Arthur. He's fun to write.

Babak: Hi honey! I'm glad you're glad that Morgaine's back. I And thank you. I'm glad you liked the scene between Galahad, Gawain and Morgaine. I was worried that people would be offended by the obviousness of what was going on. But I thought that, after everything she'd been through, she needed some reassurance from the men she loves and who love her that their feelings for her haven't changed, despite everything. And yes, major props to Arthur and Tristan! They are brothers to be envied. I want one like that. Wait a minute, I do have one like that. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. And you'll see about Tristan soon. I hope you enjoy this chapter. And about what else I have up my sleeve, I guess you'll just have to wait and see.

Evenstar-mor2004: Yes, I think that's what's going on. Tristan's revenge will be portrayed today. I hope you think I did a horrific enough job on this chapter without it earning an "M" rating. Please keep reading. Michelle's going to make an appearance soon.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Hey. I'm glad you're happy continue to read and enjoy.

Natalie: I'm glad you think it's the best chapter. And yes, Arthur is a cool character. Personally, I'm a Galahad groupie (can't you tell by my name) but Arthur's cool too. I hope you like this chapter.

op: really? You think that's my best chapter? I'm so happy blushes prettily I'm glad you like Arthur. And you can't have him. I lent you Gawain and you very nearly didn't give him back. I'm still recovering from Morgaine's brutal retribution. I'm glad I wrote this chapter. I don't want to lose your review. You're the awesomest. I'm sorry I took so long to update; life caught up to me.

ZELINIA: I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out where I go from here. I hope you continue to enjoy.

Chapter Sixty-Three

Nearly three weeks later, Tristan dropped Gareth and Aggravaine off at their village, where the three weary travelers were welcomed. When Marian and Lamorak had taken their daughters-in-laws back to their own village, they had taken Morgaine's horse, Mary-Megan with them. Despite Tristan's protests, Marian pulled him into her home, fed him and then found a corner of their hut for him to bed down for the night.

The next morning, the stoic Knight woke, staring at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room. Sighing at the realization that he was still months away from his wife, he threw back the blankets and moved to begin dressing. He slipped through the flaps and moved toward the makeshift stables where his horse and Mary-Megan were secured. Mary-Megan, at the sight of a familiar face, nickered lightly and trotted to the fence. "Hello there, beautiful. I'll bet you pine for your mistress, don't you?"

Mary-Megan butted her nose into the scout's shoulder. Marian stood in the doorway of her home, watching him silently. "Tristan?" she called quietly. "Are you leaving?"

"I think so. It's time to bring the transgressors to justice," he murmured, smoothing his palm in long, even strokes over the mare's nose. "I want to go home to my wife. And the sooner I find those responsible, the sooner I can go home."

"Tell me about Morgaine? Is she safe?"

"Now that she has been reunited with her husbands? I doubt there is anywhere safer. They will wrap her in soft linen and cradle her close so that nothing will ever harm her again."

Marian nodded, "I'm glad to hear it. I hardly recognized my son while that girl was gone. She was the light in his eyes. I could tell. And that little girl was the apple of my husband's eye."

"Sanora has all of us Knights wrapped around her pinky finger. And what's more…?" he questioned, pausing with a small smile, before looking up at her, "She knows it. We all spoil her to her hearts content, though no one could love Sanora more than Gawain."

Marian nodded, watching as he leapt the fence and moved to saddle his horse. His hands tightened the girth reflexively, his voice soothing as the horse sidestepped in agitation. Glancing at the hand-tooled saddle that Arthur had had made for Morgaine, he debated for a moment on whether to take it with him. Deciding against it, he shook his head sadly at leaving the beautiful piece of equipment behind. His fingers trailed lazily across the embellishment and looked up at Marian. "Give this saddle to Gareth. I cannot take it back with me. Mary-Megan won't tolerate it on without a rider, and I can't add the extra weight to my own Adler. Morgaine would want him to have it."

Marian nodded, watching as he swung up onto Adler, gripped Mary-Megan's reins and exited the stables. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Marian nodded, bowing slightly to the young man as he kicked his horse in the ribs and moved away, just as the sun was coming up over the east. "Be safe, Knight. And may you return home to your wife in one piece."

She watched him ride until he was no more than a speck on the horizon, and then was gone altogether.

Seeing the time that had passed since the initial kidnapping, the clues that led to the actual kidnappers were few and faded. It was some days, before Tristan caught wind of the end. Staying the night with a nomadic tribe, he caught word of a group of men who stayed in caves in the mountains some ten miles to the west. He thanked them and rode hard, seeing the time when he could return home to his wife.

When he arrived, he saw three men huddled around a fire, one woman sprawled across the lap of the eldest. Tristan's eyes narrowed. He didn't know what Urien, Belinus and Brenius looked like. His only hope of identifying the three men was the appearance of Gaheris. When the 16 year old suddenly appeared in the firelight, Tristan's face lit up in an evil looking smile. "Perfect!"

Hunkering down out of sight, he watched the group until night fell and Gaheris moved to play sentry while the others slept. Creeping slowly, Tristan slipped up behind the teenager and brought his elbow down into the back of his neck. Gaheris was out cold, sliding to the ground without a sound. Kicking the inert body once for good measure, he tied and gagged the teenager, before slipping into camp. Digging into the pouch at his belt, he pulled a vial from the depths. It was a little something he'd stolen from Morgaine's luggage before taking his leave. Laudanum, to keep them asleep until he was ready to deal with them. He went into the cave and held a laudanum-soaked rag on each one's face in turn. Once the signs had changed from sleep to blank unconsciousness, Tristan tied up each with sturdy rope. Then, performing one last act, he moved to wait for them to wake.

Nearly an hour later, he was crouched at the fireside, when the three men began to stir. Slipping into shadows, he waited for the disorientation of the drug to wear off. A couple minutes later, they realized that they were now tied up, where they hadn't been previously. "What the hell?" Urien shouted in outrage, fighting with his hands to try and free himself.

"Vengeance is a dish best served cold," came Tristan's steely voice outside the firelight.

The three men froze, before Belinus shouted, "Who's there?"

Tristan appeared as though by magic, a wicked smile curving his lips. "My king has ordered your executions. However, I am prepared to be…. lenient." Though he was saying it, Tristan was mentally laughing. He knew, even if they didn't, that none of the three would survive the night. "We're going to play a little game. It's called, 'Name That Missing Body Part.' For every wrong answer, I'll take another."

Urien, furious at being caught and being trapped in an obvious game of cat and mouse, shouted, "Where's Gaheris?"

Tristan's dagger was positioned at his jugular before any of the three had even realized he'd moved. "I'll ask the questions, not you. He's….alive, for the time being. However, I wouldn't bank on that for long." As he crouched across from them, the three men watched in fear as sinister lines began to play across the planes of the Knight's face. "My king and I heard an alarming rumor. My Princess was disgraced and it is my charge to avenge her honor. But in order to do so, I must first know the name of the perpetrator. If you give up this man, the rest of you shall go free."

Standing and turning away, he seemed to pause for a second. Out of the blue, he drew his blade and stabbed backward, the curved point catching Urien in the kidney. His wrist twisted the blade to keep the wound open, before he spun, wrenching the blade up and out through the opposite shoulder. Urien collapsed forward with a soundless cry of agony, as Tristan used a cloth to calmly clean the blade of Urien's blood. Tristan smirked evilly, crouching and looking into the man's face. "The Dark Magician, the Princess' father, knows a lot about the human anatomy. I found his lessons to be rather…." He paused, before continuing in a low, sinister tone, "enlightening. That wound should keep you alive for several hours, at least, before you finally bleed to death." Standing he seemed to think for a second, before musing aloud, "Where was I again?"

Snapping his fingers once, he "remembered" the answer to his own question. "Oh, yes, the matter of Her Highness, Morgaine's, rapist. Which of you was this man? And try not to lie to me. You don't want to come to an unfortunate end, now do you?"

The three men immediately started to accuse the other, both Brenius and Belinus accusing Urien, while Urien accused the other two. Finally Tristan seemed to sigh and took off Brenius' head with a casual slice of his sword. "I couldn't hear a single thing with him screeching at full voice like he was. Now, who was it again?"

Belinus' eyes were huge as he started to accuse Urien once again, while Urien did the same. Tristan rubbed his temples, dispatching Belinus in moments with a kind of detached glee. Kicking the body out of the way carelessly, Tristan crouched in front of Urien. "Hello, Urien. It would appear you're the only one left." Tristan smirked, the firelight sending ominous shadows across his face. "I have a confession to make. I already knew it was you. I had no intention of showing mercy. Arthur ordered your executions. Your executions will be carried out."

Glancing from one dead body to the next, Tristan mused absently, "Damn. I missed the opportunity to torture the other two. Looks like it's just you and me. So….." he paused, a wicked grin curving his lips, "how do you feel about beetles?"

Urien looked up at Tristan, his eyes dull and his voice hoarse as he inquired, "I'm already dying. What else can you possibly do to me?"

"Urien, you have no imagination. Just because you're dying, doesn't mean you're dead."

Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a napkin, the contents of which were squirming and writhing in their confinement. "You know, I made some interesting friends while I was waiting for the three of you to sleep. I prepared lunch for them. I hope they'll enjoy it."

Pinning Urien down, Tristan started to insert the beetles into the open wound. Grabbing up a burning torch, he cauterized the wound crudely, creating a painful scorch mark on the pale flesh. Sitting back against a log, Tristan grabbed a length of wood and drew his dagger, whittling away.

The beetles squirmed for a moment under Urien's skin, before beginning to eat their way out. Urien was silent for a moment, though sweat began to form on his forehead as he struggled to hold in his scream. The corner of Tristan's lips twitched as finally Urien could no longer hold in his agony, his shriek reverberating through the silent copse.

Shifting his grip on his dagger, Tristan approached the writhing man and lifted his right arm. The hand was clenched tightly in pain, his distinctive silver ring digging into the skin. Tristan sliced through skin and bone, dismembering the hand. Dropping it into a reinforced leather bag, he stood. Tristan moved toward the other body, taking those hands as well before walking to where he'd stashed Gaheris. He tossed the body across Mary-Megan's back, before mounting his own stallion. Reining around, he watched Urien for a moment. "Enjoy the remaining hours of your life, Urien. This copse and my back will be the last things you ever see. Any last words?"

"Go to hell!" Urien spat at the man, hugging his severed wrist to his chest and rolling onto his side to fruitlessly relieve some of the pain.

"You first," Tristan taunted before riding away, Mary-Megan on the lead rein behind him.

Turning toward the West, Tristan sighed at the sight of sunrise. "I'm coming, Isolde. Wait for me."


	64. Chapter 64

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers. ;)

the green lama: I promise, honey, no more beetles their way out of people. It was an idea from my muse. He thought it would work really well, what with the way everything went down. I hope you like this chapter better. Lots of Morgaine/Galahad/Gawain to ease your puking stomach. If this isn't literary Pepto Bismal, I don't know what is.

Evenstar-mor2004: I'm glad you liked it! You don't think it was too gory? And yes, Urien did deserve it. That's how Tristan consoles himself at the end of the day. ;) Just kidding….at the end of the day, he slips into bed with Isolde. And yes, Gaheris is in major trouble. I hope you like this chapter.

lilstrummrgrl527: Don't worry about it. I forgive you. I'm glad you liked Morgaine returning to the all-encompassing fold. And I'm glad you wished for Tristan to find them. I'm glad you liked the gore (It was my muse's idea. I wasn't going to go as far into detail as he, but it worked out okay). And I don't mind the profanity. There is a swear word in this chapter. And I didn't know you had dolls of Galahad's brothers! I want one! I want to mutilate it for my own perverse pleasure. ;) I hope you like this chapter. Fluff! Kinda.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Yes, they did deserve everything they got.

Natalie: Thank you. I hope you like.

op: I'm glad you liked that line! It's my favorite:) And yes, Tristan is pretty fine! I'm glad you liked this chapter. I hope you like this next one too.

TONYBA: YOU ARROGANT SON OF A MONKEY'S UNCLE! YOU'RE MY BEST FRIEND! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE A REVIEW LIKE THAT? YOU ARE IN SOOOOOO MUCH TROUBLE MISTER! But at least I know who to call when we get to the Gaheris scene. I hope you enjoy this chapter too, although I doubt it. You're a guy. Fluff really isn't your thing, is it?

Babak: Where are you? You reviewed my other story! Have I lost you? Wah! I am sooooo sad. Please update! I miss you: (

HGandRHForever: Hey sweetie! I missed you too. Hope I haven't scared you away too. Please read soon.

Anyone else I missed, I apologize and I hope you like this chapter.

And so, with one foot out the door…..

Chapter Sixty-Four

That first night at home in Camelot was hard. Morgaine was exhausted from all of her experiences. She just wanted to crawl into the bed she shared with her husbands, pull them and her children close, and then sleep for the rest of the day. The two men followed her into their apartments, watching as Morgaine's eyes followed the curves and angles of everything in the room. "I've missed this place."

"We know," Gawain murmured, before Galahad asked, "Do you want to change for bed? We'll wait outside if you want us to."

Morgaine shook her head once. "No. I'm all right. Don't leave me."

The two Knights nodded, helping her out of the heavy riding gown she wore and into a concealing linen nightgown. Crawling into bed, she sprawled out on her back to feed her youngest. Galahad smiled at her and reached into the bassinet for little Ryan. Laying him gently across his mother's belly, he covered mother and child, before helping Gawain get the other two children ready for bed. Sanora was giggling happily as Gawain tickled her whenever he could. Archie was rolling his eyes at his sister, though the indulgent look on his face left no doubts as to the fact that he was just as happy as his fathers that the little girl was cheerful again.

When the two eldest children were ready for bed and Morgaine had finished burping Ryan, Galahad reached to take Ryan and tuck the three children into bed. Morgaine shook her head slightly. "Is it okay if they sleep up here with us tonight?"

Gawain smiled indulgently, kissing her brow. "Absolutely."

Lifting Sanora, he watched proudly as the little girl cuddled in close to her mother and fell to sleep, her blond eyelashes fanning prettily across her cheeks. Archie climbed up and curled up opposite his sister, his hand resting atop of where Morgaine's right hand held Ryan to her breast. The baby was already sleeping, tiny snores filling the air. Gawain and Galahad stripped out of their armor, wearing their shirts and pants to bed. Climbing into bed, they bracketed their tiny family between them. Each had a hand on Morgaine, their arms over their children. Soon, the four people in their arms fell asleep. Gawain's fingers trailed loosely through Sanora's sunlit strands. "We haven't done this since Sanora was a baby."

Galahad nodded, his own fingers twisting at Archie's sable curls. "I know. I'm not surprised to be honest. I mean, if I had gone through what Nazneen had gone through, I would want everyone I loved close to me too."

Gawain smirked, remarking absently, "I don't see Arthur in this bed anywhere."

Galahad mock-glared at his best friend, before glancing down at Morgaine. "I was surprised by Arthur's dangerous nature while we were searching for her."

Gawain shook his head. "I wish I could say the same. I knew we, at least, were going to get our asses kicked."

"You didn't get your ass kicked. Just me," Galahad reminded him idly.

"That's cause you're the youngest. You're easy."

Galahad glared, before looking down at the four people who meant more to him than all of the gold in the world. Gawain, noticing where his thoughts lay, commented softly, "Sarmatia was a disaster."

Galahad rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that might be an understatement. We're not ever going back."

Gawain nodded, "What do you think Tristan is going to do to your brothers?"

Galahad's jaw tightened, before he hissed out, "I don't know and I couldn't care. Besides, I wasn't kidding when I accused Tristan of enjoying the kill. I'd rather not imagine the torture he has planned for them. Though, whatever he does, they'll deserve it. You don't hurt Nazneen and expect not to face vengeance."

Gawain nodded, redirecting his attention to Morgaine. They watched her late into the night, before finally the pull of dreams dragged them under and they drifted into oblivion.

Sometime after midnight, Gawain woke. He couldn't say what it was exactly that had woken him, but he knew something was wrong. Going up onto his elbow, his baby blue eyes scanned the faces of those before him. The children slept peaceably, but Morgaine's features were contorted and her lips were moving soundlessly. Reaching out, he touched her face gently face. She gave a soft cry and wrenched away, a litany passing through her lips, "Please no. Please. Don't touch me. Please no. Please."

Gawain's jaw hardened as he realized she was having a nightmare. Reaching across his wife and their children, he shook Galahad hard. "Gal, wake up."

Galahad snapped awake, blinking slightly in disorientation for a moment, before meeting Gawain's eyes. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. Lady's having a nightmare."

Galahad nodded, reaching to gently extract the baby from her arms. Morgaine moaned in protest, her head starting to thrash from side to side and her cries getting louder. Gawain carefully lifted Sanora out of the way as Galahad did the same to Archie. Laying them in their own beds and Ryan in his bassinet, the two men moved back to wake their lover from her terrifying dream. Gawain's body spooned against her back, Galahad's fingers tracing over her arms gently. Speaking in Sarmatian, a language the Romans would never use, he pleaded with her, "Nazneen, my love, come back to us."

The anxiety in her face started to ease some at the sound of Galahad's voice, easing further as Gawain whispered gentle Sarmatian into her hair, "My Lady, please wake up. It's only a nightmare."

The two of them talked softly, touching gently and soothing tenderly, trying to bring their wife from her dream. Finally, she wrenched awake with a gentle cry. Eyes wild, they flew from the faces of each men before she threw her arms around their necks with a sob. "Oh Gods, I am home, right? I'm in Camelot? This isn't a nightmare?" she begged in Sarmatian, comforted by the language of her father and that of her husbands.

Gawain's eyes filled with tears as he heard her desperation. Resting his head on her shoulder and letting her fingers fly frantically through his hair and over his face, he replied, "No, Lady, you're home."

Galahad nodded against her chest, murmuring, "You're at Camelot. We're in our bed. This isn't a nightmare."

With a heart-wrenching sob, she started to cry in earnest. Holding the two of them was all she'd played for in her nightmare. And to learn that they were really in her arms was bliss. They soothed her with soft touches and gentle words, trying to ease her distress and fear. Finally, they spooned against her as usual, their fingers moving in lazy caresses across her body. Gawain murmured gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Morgaine shook her head frantically, "No. I just want to lie here in your arms and forget it ever happened. Don't leave me?"

"Never," Galahad promised, Gawain's voice humming in agreement from behind her.

Glancing around, she noticed the children asleep in their cots. "I didn't wake them, did I?"

"No. They're like Galahad. After they're asleep, it'll take a hurricane to wake them."

Galahad glared at Gawain, as Morgaine giggled lightly under her breath. "Thank you, Gawain, I needed that."

Gawain nodded once with a small smile. "I know. Sleep, my Lady," he encouraged, Galahad's voice continuing from there, "We'll be here when you wake, Nazneen. And when you're in the depths of a nightmare, we'll rescue you."

Gawain nodded, whispering, "We'll always rescue you."

Morgaine nodded against their bodies, her eyes slipping closed in exhaustion, before she simply slipped into sleep. Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other and hunkered down around her, falling asleep as well.

The next morning, when the children woke, they were disoriented to find themselves in their own cots. Sanora moved to the bassinet and lifted out Ryan, as Archie climbed onto the bed. Handing her little brother up to the eldest, she climbed onto the bed. Laying Ryan gently in their mother's arms, the two elder children snuggled close to their fathers, closed their eyes, and fell asleep once more, content in the knowledge that they were safe.


	65. Chapter 65

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Babak: Yes, I know you emailed me. I am using some of your ideas in the story, by the way. I'm glad you thought they got what they deserved. And yes, Tristan is one scary individual to piss off. I wouldn't want to do it. And I know. Eventually Morgaine's nightmares will dissipate. But I hope you continue to like this. And I'm glad you're with me forever. You're the coolest:)

HGandRHForever: I'm glad you liked this chapter. I'm glad you liked Tristan. I will confess that he was fun to write last chapter. He was all homicidal and stuff. And homicidal can be pretty hot, if I do say so myself.

lilstrummrgrl527: I'm glad the dolls of Galahad's brothers are dead. They should not be allowed to live. And I can make you full sized dolls of everyone if you want. Hold on a second. hands over plushies of all the characters Take really good care of Sanora, okay? You don't want Gawain to go crazy on you. ;) And yes, Lancelot will have children. I just haven't created them yet. Soon.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you liked it. They are very close. They all rely on each other to survive. I hope you like this chapter.

Mademoiselle Morte: You know, I really hadn't thought about the Mummy when I was writing that. But yeah, now that you mention it, that's kinda what it probably looked like. And yes, Morgaine will be able to heal soon.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you liked it. What about the fluff? Was it weird for you? Sorry:(

op: Someone's jealous! ;) Yes, with Galahad and Gawain, how could any girl not to be okay. Gaheris shows back up today.

Natalie: thanks! I hope you continue to enjoy.

Chapter Sixty-Five

After Morgaine had spent three weeks ensconced in her chambers with her husbands and children, she reentered the world of Camelot once more. Her arrival in the Chamber of the Round Table was a shock to both her brother and her husbands. They all looked up as the doors were shoved open and Morgaine limped into the room, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. Every last man in the room stood in respect, Gawain and Galahad staring at her in surprise. Concerned, Arthur moved to stand beside her, asking, "Morgaine? What is it, Sister? Are you ill?"

She shook her head with a small smile. Ever since her return, Arthur had been treating her like glass. "No, Arthur. I'm fine. I realized today, while I was spending some time with the ladies, that there is still a Knight unmarried. Well besides Bors. But he and Vanora are happy with their arrangement, so I won't mess with a good thing. Jols, when would you like to get married?"

Jols blushed as the rest of the Knights started to rib him good-naturedly, hooting and hollering. Morgaine rolled her eyes at the playful antics of the men, speaking quietly to the embarrassed Knight. "Ignore them. They never change, despite everything I try."

Galahad looked up at her with a fond smile. "You wouldn't love us nearly as much if we didn't drive you crazy, Nazneen."

Morgaine shook her head, her eyes equally fond as she threaded gentle fingers through the silken strands of his curls, "No, Sarmatian, I supposed not. I mean, honestly; what's so great about sanity anyway?"

Gawain shrugged nonchalantly, joining in on the teasing, "When you find out, Lady, would you let us know?"

Morgaine mock-glowered at him, taking a swipe at his shoulder. "You're all evil," she scolded affectionately, before returning her attention to Jols. "I hope you know what you've gotten into by agreeing to this insanity."

Jols chuckled. "I had been their squire for many years before I was a Knight, my lady. I'm afraid I was well acquainted with their peculiarities."

The rest of the Knights chucked their empty goblets or writing tablets at him playfully, as Jols laughed and dodged the flying objects. Morgaine touched his shoulder, causing him to look up at her. Seeing that she was suddenly serious, he too became serious. She touched his cheek gently with her fingertips, "When, Jols?"

"Immediately my lady."

She nodded once, with a small smile curving her lips. "All right. I'll arrange it."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at his sister. "Are you sure, Rhiannon? You're still tired, I can tell."

"If I focus on this wedding, Arthur, I will remember that there are good things in this world. There is love, hope and rebirth. And I will heal." Shuffling to her brother's side, she dropped awkwardly to her knees and put her hands on the armrest of his chair, looking up at him with pleading in her expressive sapphire eyes. "Please, Arthur, let me do this."

Unable to deny her anything, Arthur nodded once. "All right, Morgaine. Have the other women help you. They've been praying for another wedding for months now."

Morgaine nodded, ducking her head slightly as her brother leaned to kiss her forehead. Speaking softly in Latin, he muttered, "God bless you, my darling Fire-Sister."

Morgaine smiled up at him and moved slowly away. "Gods bless you too, my Fire-Brother, my friend, my King."

Kissing his brow dotingly, she bestowed a dazzling smile on each of the men and disappeared from the chamber. Arthur turned to look at Galahad. "Is she okay?"

Galahad nodded once, taking a sip from his goblet. "I think that was a huge indicator of how much better she really **is** doing."

Just then, the doors burst open and a bound Gaheris was shoved through, followed by a disheveled Tristan, both covered in travel dust and sweat. Overbalanced, Gaheris hit his knees as the rest of the Knights surged to their feet in surprise and anger. "I saw the Princess Morgaine enter here. I didn't want to upset her, " Tristan murmured, with a shallow bow to his king.

"And?"

"It wasn't quick," was all the scout said.

Tristan, pulling a sack from his belt, tossed it onto the table before Arthur. Arthur unlaced the top and examined the items inside. Three grisly -and still bloody- hands were inside. Nodding once, he laced it again and tossed it to Galahad. Galahad shook his head and passed it to his right to Gawain, unable to stomach the proof of his brothers' executions. Gawain checked quickly and nodded once in approval of its contents. Dropping the bag to his right, Gawain nodded his head toward his little brother. "What about this traitor?"

Arthur shook his head, sipping on his ale. "I haven't decided yet."

Tristan spoke quietly, "You've had months Arthur."

Arthur nodded, "I know. But I couldn't think of anything fitting enough."

Galahad spoke next, a malicious look glinting brightly in his eyes, "Maybe we should sell him to the Romans and see how he likes being someone's whore for months on end."

Gaheris flinched at the scathing reproach in his voice. Gawain sat back down, sprawling out casually in his chair. Lifting his goblet, he shook his head. "No, that's too good for him, I'm afraid."

Galahad conceded to the elder of Morgaine's husbands, slouching back gracelessly in his chair. "All right, then, brother, what do you suggest?"

"Killing would be too easy," Tristan remarked, knocking the boy to the ground as he pushed past him to the side-table, pouring a brimming goblet of wine and downing it in one long gulp.

Lancelot nodded once, "I agree. So what do we do with him?"

Arthur shrugged. "If I turned him over to Morgaine, she'd let him go with no hard feelings. The woman doesn't know the meaning of revenge. If I left him to Galahad, he wouldn't live for two seconds past the time. If I gave him to Gawain….well, Gawain's very handy with that ax and dagger of his, let's just put it that way. If I left him to you, Lance, I'd be hearing about the bloodstains on her tapestries and carpets from Guinevere for the rest of my natural life. She's a warrior, but she loves her carpets; go fig!"

Lancelot nodded, acknowledging each point as it was made. "What about Bors, Dagonet and Tristan?"

"Tristan has fulfilled his part in my vengeance. I'll leave him to his wife for the time being. Bors has his own family to attend to. And Dagonet, well, he has a new child. And I don't want to gain Michelle's animosity by taking him from her long enough to dispose of the little rat."

Gaheris moved to speak, but Gawain's voice thundered through the room, "Be silent!"

Gaheris froze, his mouth snapping closed immediately. Lancelot nodded at Gawain in approval of the reproach, before returning his attention to his best friend. Arthur rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "I'm afraid I'm at a quandary."

Dagonet spoke, "What if you were to turn him over to Galahad and Gawain. Gawain, with his usual calm, would be able to stay Galahad's blade for a short time and Galahad would make sure that vengeance was wrought."

Arthur looked up at him, nodding. "That's a good plan, Dag." Turning to look at Gawain, he inquired, "What do you think?"

Guinevere sprang into the room at that moment. "Hello Arthur." Catching sight of Gaheris, she cocked an eyebrow at her husband. "Returned from Sarmatia, Gaheris?" she mocked, smiling at Tristan. "Hello, Trist. Isolde will be happy to hear you have returned. She has missed you desperately."

Tristan gave his queen a small smile. "I am looking forward to seeing her. How are the boys?"

"They've missed their father. He hasn't been here to play with them. And momma has missed Daddy too. Go on, Tristan. I don't believe my husband urgently requires your presence for the moment."

Tristan bowed to his king and queen, before taking his leave from his compatriots. Guinevere perched on her husband's knee, watching the boy in front of her. "So? What's to be done with him?"

"We're going to give him to Galahad and Gawain. Although, until Morgaine has married Jols to Amara, he'll be getting well acquainted with the cell walls of my jail."

Guinevere nodded. "Don't let Morgaine know he's here. She'll insist you let him go back -unharmed- to Sarmatia."

"I know. What are you doing here, my dove?"

"The wedding will be a week from today, late afternoon. Amara wants it that way. The women are going to be working late, so don't expect us to come to bed tonight."

Arthur nodded, chuckling at the disgruntled looks on the faces of said women's husbands. "We'll be fine."

When she had left again, Gawain turned to his little brother. Watching him steadily for a moment, he finally closed his eyes and stood. "I'll take him to his cell, if you no longer have need of me, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, watching as Gawain wrenched his brother up from the floor. Dragging him away, Gawain restrained himself from brutally beating him to little bits. Reaching the cell, he snatched the keys from the wall and chose one, shoving the fourteen year old into the cell. Slamming the door shut, he turned his back and stopped. Whirling back, he roared at him, "Why?"

Gaheris, surprised that his brother was talking to him, spoke, "What?"

"Why did you do it, Gaheris? She's a beautiful woman who has gone out of her way to want what Arthur wants; a place where all men are free and equal. How could you even dream of hurting her?"

"She's hurting you!" the boy snapped back, tears standing in his eyes. "She's bewitched you, Gawain. Your relationship with the trollop isn't normal! No woman can love two men."

Gawain's hand clenched at the insult, but he forced himself to calm. "That's where you're wrong; you're wrong, Gaheris. My Lady loves us so much." Pausing his eyes took on a pleading look. "She gave me a daughter, who thinks that I hung the moon. I didn't think I ever deserved the right to be happy. I didn't think I had the right to have a little girl look up at me with love and adoration, and know that **I** am her father. I have killed many sons and injured still more. This was my only real dream; a good, honest and hard-working woman to love, and a child who thinks that I'm one of the Gods." Leaning forward, he locked eyes with his little brother. "Morgaine gave me that dream. And you tried to take it away again."

Stepping back, his blue eyes watched his brother sadly. "The best punishment for you would be that you never had the same opportunity to love and be loved. But I couldn't wish that on my worst enemy; it's too cruel. And you're not my worst enemy, Gaheris, you're my brother. So, when Galahad and I take you out of here, I'm going to try my damnedest to convince Galahad to let you go unharmed. But you and I are no longer brothers. The only thing that ties us to one another anymore is the blood that runs through our veins."

Turning his back on the teenager, Gawain left, fighting the tears in his eyes valiantly.

The next week, Morgaine watched Jols marry his kind and gentle Amara. She was still unaware that Gaheris was in the palace prison, and her laughter rang loud and clear throughout the courtyard for all to hear. And that night, after the ceremony was done and the newlyweds had disappeared, Gawain and Galahad put Morgaine to bed, speaking softly to keep away her nightmares. When she was asleep, her eyelids hiding her vibrant blue eyes and her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of dreams, the two laid still for a moment, just watching her. At last, the moon rose full and bright over their heads.

Gawain, from his place at her back, sat up, reaching over her slowly to touch Galahad's shoulder. Galahad looked up, nodding once. The two dressed quickly and quietly, each member of their little family receiving a gentle kiss to reassure their slumbering forms that they would return. Leaving the chamber, they moved to the stables, where Arthur and Lancelot stood with three saddled horses and Gaheris, his wrists bound in heavy chains. "It's over tomorrow, you two. Take what vengeance you will, but keep in mind that Morgaine would have forgiven him."

Gawain nodded, and replied, "We will."

Galahad nodded, swinging atop Dar. "Let's get going. I want to be back before Nazneen wakes up tomorrow morning."

Gawain nodded, hauling his brother over the saddle of the extra horse facedown on his belly. Mounting Brute, he grabbed the reins and the three were off.


	66. Chapter 66

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

Babak: Hey sweetie! I'm glad you liked that chapter. And yeah, GAheris is going to be in trouble. But Morgaine wouldn't want him harmed. He allowed his emotions to get the best of him. So, we'll see what happens to him today. And yeah, Gawain is hurting, though he's got Morgaine and Sanora to help him. And I'm glad you liked his little speech. I thought it was appropriate.

Chris: You're a doll. I'll talk to you tomorrow in class. Everyone say hi to my muse! Chris!

Evenstar-mor2004: Yes, we will hear the pitter patter of his children's feet soon. Just not too soon. And yes, you have a baby. His name is Liam.

The green lama: not a problem. I know how hectic Exams can be. I have exam week coming up and I'm studying like mad. I hope I survive the strain. And thank you for your wonderful compliments. I'm glad you liked Chapter 65. It was one of my favorites.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Updated! Hope you like!

lilstrummrgrl527: Yes, he does have it coming. And now that you mention it, that's a good point. But the whole reason that Morgaine did what she did to Marius was because she was trying to save her nephew, who –if you'll recall- he had by the throat with a knife to his neck. So yeah. And yes, I thought that comment on Guinevere was pretty funny too. And yes, more babies. And I was pictures of their kilts! I made the dolls! I want pictures! Please!

op: I'm glad you're not jealous. And yes, Gaheris will be in trouble. Although the real kicking the crap out of doesn't come until later. Today he gets sent away. Sorry. Don't kill me. You'll like it later, though, I promise.

Mademoiselle Morte: Thank you. I do cliffhangers better than anyone. And you'll see where they're going today.

ZELINIA: And no, you didn't say anything about fluff. And I'm glad you think I wrote him as a good father. I wanted him to have two different sides to him. Warrior-Tristan and Daddy-Tristan.

Natalie: I'm glad you liked that chapter. Please continue to read and review.

Dw: I look forward to reading your next review.

Chapter Sixty-Six

Galahad and Gawain argued heatedly in Latin as they rode along. Gaheris, slung over the saddle like he was, could only listen to the unknown speech as they decided his fate. Loosing his temper, Galahad burst out in Briton, "I want him dead!"

Gawain shook his head, touching the younger man's head gently. "In death he will learn nothing."

"So you want to just let him go? Leave him free to try and take Morgaine from us once again?" Galahad roared, Dar skittered nervously beneath him.

Gawain sighed, pulling up Brute. Dismounting, he tied both Brute and Gaheris' horse to a tree root. Galahad, knowing that Gawain was trying to spare Dar his temper, followed suit and dismounted as well. Gawain leaned back against another tree, speaking quietly in Latin, "No, Gal. I have this better planned than that. I propose a quest. One in which he might redeem himself."

Seeing red at the thought, Galahad sneered at the very idea. "There can be no redemption for Morgaine's kidnappers."

Gawain smiled sadly. "Galahad, I understand how you feel. She is my wife too. Morgaine and Sanora are my world. But if you hate him for the rest of your life, it will consume you. You must forgive him. He'll never have the opportunity to get close enough to hurt her. Okay?"

Galahad paced back and forth furiously, before nodding in frustration. "All right. But if he comes back to haunt us, Gawain, your face will be the one Arthur breaks."

Gawain nodded once. "I understand. Come. We should get moving."

Galahad moved briskly toward his horse, swinging up and prancing the charger in place for a moment. Gawain mounted his own stallion and followed the agitated younger Knight. Glancing down at Gaheris, he muttered, "I hope you're worth this."

Later that afternoon, Galahad reined in at a small ship on the shore of the Channel. "What the hell is that?"

"That is my great idea. I cleared it with Arthur. He is going on a quest to find Morgaine's father," Gawain replied in Latin, knowing that it was the impossible quest. One from which Gaheris would probably never return to Britain.

"Her father?" Galahad asked in surprise. He knew, as did Gawain, that Morgaine's father had been taken by the Romans, when Morgaine was but four summers old.

Gawain nodded, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Her father. And someday, **if** he returns with him, he can earn redemption for his actions."

Galahad nodded, taking a deep breath and riding toward the makeshift dock. Looking up at the sky, he muttered, "We're never going to make it home by sunup."

Gawain shook his head in agreement, "No, I don't think so. That's all right; we have to tell Morgaine about Gaheris sooner or later."

"I would much rather later. Her nightmares grow more detailed and petrifying as the nights go by."

Gawain nodded silently, remembering with tears the sight of his beloved Morgaine sobbing in her sleep, thrashing away from the touch of anyone. Finally Arthur had been called and his voice had pulled her from the depths of her dream. "My heart broke that night we couldn't wake her."

Galahad nodded, knowing what night it was that Gawain spoke. "I know. I feel the same. Come on; let's just get this over with. The longer I look at him, the more I get the urge to kill him."

Gawain nodded and dismounted, leading the horse carrying Gaheris toward the ship, shoving the teenager up the gangplank and onto the ship. The three men were led to the cabin where the Captain awaited them. "Captain?" Gawain asked at the sight of a wiry man hunched over a desk and a stack of paper.

The man looked up and stood with a smile, "My Lord Knights. Please, come in."

Gawain shoved Gaheris to the floor as the two Knights entered the room. "Captain, may I introduce my companions? Sir Galahad and Gaheris. Gaheris is the one whom you will be escorting from our shores."

The captain, a kindly man, looked at the boy and cocked an eyebrow. "What has he done?"

"He instigated the kidnapping of the Princess Morgaine. His punishment is exile, in hopes that someday he might be redeemed."

Galahad snorted, moving toward the windows. "Redemption," he muttered viciously, "is for those who have not harmed another."

Gawain smiled sadly at his friend. "Can we trust you to make sure that he doesn't get off the ship until he is on the other side of the Channel and that he does not cross the Channel again until there is an older man at his side in sound company?"

"Yes, my lords, me and my contingent will make sure he harms none."

Gawain nodded, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you. I shall leave him in your custody then."

The captain nodded and watched the younger and angrier of the two follow the blond from the cabin. Turning to where Gaheris sat huddled on the floor, he cocked an eyebrow, muttering quietly in Latin, "What have you done to earn that man's hatred?"

Gaheris looked up at him, murmuring, "You don't want to know."

The captain watched him for a moment more, before calling for some guards to take the teenager away to the brig, where he would weather the crossing.

Morgaine woke alone that morning, for the first time since she'd been rescued from Constantinople. Sitting up, her eyes scanned the room for some sign of where her husbands had gone. Her children lay sleeping, undisturbed and content. Standing, she pulled on a robe and limped heavily toward the battlements to watch for their return.

Though many guessed her whereabouts, none disturbed her. Arthur ordered Lancelot to keep an eye on her, and the older Knight stood concealed in the shadows of the tower to her left. Around midday, she could see the trail of dust kicked up by the horses her husbands rode. She stayed where she was, watching them come closer. Gawain's eyes were sad but resolute, while Galahad's temper -lately more out of control- was brimming even closer to the surface. She limped down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as her husbands dismounted from their stallions. "Good morrow, husbands. Where were you? I woke up and you weren't there. I thought you didn't want me anymore."

Galahad visibly winced. Her confidence had been severely shattered by her experiences and she was wary of anyone who said they loved her, despite the fact that she believed them. He handed the reins of his horse to the groom, Helios, and came to her side. Pulling her into his arms, he buried his face in her hair. "I would never leave you, Nazneen. You are my world. I love you."

Morgaine smiled, her eyes only a little sad. "I love you. Where were you? What happened?"

"You knew Tristan returned," Gawain confessed, joining the other two. Morgaine nodded in agreement, her eyes puzzled as to what that had to do with anything. There was a pause and he continued, "He returned with Gaheris."

Morgaine immediately drew backward, her face stark with horror. "Gaheris? Where is he?"

"He's been taken care of. That's what we were out doing."

"How long has he been here? How long have you been **lying** to me?"

"We didn't lie to you. We just didn't tell you."

"A lie by omission is just as serious as an outright lie. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Your nightmares have been getting worse. The last thing you needed to worry about was if Gaheris was suddenly going to hurt you. We never would have let it happen. You have to believe me."

Morgaine relaxed slightly at the adoring look in their eyes. "I believe you. I'm sorry. I think I'm pregnant again."

Galahad's eyes widened and he gripped her arms. "Truly?"

"I don't know. It's too early to tell. We'll know soon enough. Are you sure he's been taken care of?" she implored the oldest, her eyes beseeching him for the truth.

Gawain nodded once. "I'm sure. He'll never be back to Britain. You are safe, my Lady."

Morgaine nodded and closed her eyes, letting herself relax into their embraces and breathing in the dusky scent of them. "Come. It's almost dinner. You should wash. And after that, your children have been pining for you."

The two men grinned, nodding, before Gawain hauled Morgaine up over his shoulder and jogged toward the baths with her. She laughed, struggling half-heartedly to get down, before being dunked fully clothed into the lukewarm water. She came up sputtering, before glaring at them and seeking her own revenge. Their bath was filled with loving and laughter, and Morgaine loved them all the more for it.


	67. Chapter 67

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

June Birdie: I'm glad you liked this story. It's lots of fun. And technically it's a Knight/OC if you think about it. Because, well, they all got married to an original character that I created. Well, except for Arthur, he still married Guinevere. I hope you continue to enjoy.

Chris: I'll talk to you Thursday for our usual brainstorming session. Everyone say hi to Chris!

Evenstar-mor2004: She was gone for about six months. But the trip back to Britain from the Byzantine Empire in Constantinople took two months. And they've been back in Camelot itself for nearly a month. So she's had three months to get pregnant. And, if you think about it, it only takes once.

the green lama: don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure you passed with flying colors. And I don't think I'd be so cruel as to make her pregnant with Urien's child. That's just downright mean. I hope you enjoy this chapter, though.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: yep, she's pregnant. I don't know. Did she?

Tony: Big trouble! I'll yell at you later. Number one: Read the whole story. She is married to two men. Duh! That's the whole point of the novel. And I am so not getting into a grammatical debate with you. Especially since in your review, your grammar was atrocious. Miss you too baby! Read the whole story please!

Babak: Sup! I'm glad you liked the twist. I thought it was a good thing to do. Though Gaheris definitely isn't off the hook yet. As time passes her nightmares will ease. I promise. And you'll have to keep reading to see what the deal is with Morgaine's pregnancy. Today, Bergisa gets her own happy news. Chris says "hi" buy the way. ;)

lilstrummrgrl527: Thank you for the pictures. I love them! ;) And yes, the punishment isn't over yet. Keep reading and you'll see what else Gaheris goes through during his quest. I promise this is not the end of Gaheris.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you liked that chapter. And I'll look forward to it.

op: I agree. But that's why I am still the author. I promise. Gaheris will get what's coming to him. You have my word.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

The next day, Morgaine limped toward her infirmary. She was surprised to see Bergisa sitting on the bed, looking pale and sickly. She hurried as quickly as she could toward the older woman. "Bergisa, darling? What's wrong, honey?"

"I don't feel so well, Morgaine. Every morning, I throw up. But then I feel well later that day. My breasts are sore and I'm getting fat. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can smell **everything**! What is wrong with me!"

Morgaine laughed, "Oh Bergisa. Let me take a look at you and we'll find out. Although, from the sound of what you're telling me….it sounds as though you're pregnant."

Bergisa's eyes widened to their largest proportions. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Bergisa, I think you're pregnant. Come. Let's check you over to be sure."

Bergisa nodded, following Morgaine's instructions and pulling off her surcoat. Morgaine probed and prodded, before settling back on the bed. "Bergisa, I am pleased to report that you, my dove, are pregnant. You and Lancelot should be expecting a baby sometime after Christmastide."

Bergisa's eyes widened in surprise and joy. "Truly?"

"Yes, Bergisa, truly. Congratulations!" Morgaine laughed, throwing her arms around her best friend.

Bergisa squeezed her back, the two laughing happily. "What am I going to tell Lancelot?"

"Don't worry about Lance. He's a big boy. He'll figure it out on his own. And if he doesn't, you can always ask Vanora for one of her pans and hit him over the head with it," Morgaine teased, her eyes sparkling with love.

Bergisa giggled, the two acting like schoolgirls with a crush.

Over the next few days, Morgaine and Bergisa spent every waking moment they could discussing the baby. Galahad and Gawain, along with the rest of the Knights, watched the two and smiled, happy to see their princess back to normal. However, on the second day after finding out, Lancelot stormed toward Bergisa, furious. "Bergisa! This is ridiculous!"

"What is, husband?"

"What have you done to my tunic?" he hollered, holding it up. In the center, Bergisa -during a fit of boredom often associated with pregnancy- had embroidered a great, white stallion, rearing up on his hind legs. "Bartholomew is black, not white!"

Bergisa nodded, "All right, husband, I'll fix it."

Taking the tunic, she walked off quietly. Lancelot's eyes bugged out and he stared after his wife. If he knew Bergisa at all, which he did, she wouldn't have cared whether she was right or wrong. She would have started yelling at him for yelling at her for something so frivolous. Arthur, who had been walking with his First Knight, blinked in surprise. "What was that?" Arthur inquired, just as surprised by the play-out as Lancelot.

"I have no idea. But that was not my wife!"

"I highly doubt there is an imposter in your bed, Lance. You're being paranoid."

"All right, if that was Bergisa, explain to me what the hell just happened?"

"Maybe she's not feeling well, and wasn't in the mood to argue with you."

Lancelot chewed that around in his head, before nodding. "It's possible. She said she was going to see Morgaine about what was wrong."

"Well there you go! You're panicking for no reason. If it was serious, either she or Morgaine would have told you. It's probably just a head cold, or a set of migraines. Don't worry so much, Lancelot, I'm sure she'll be better soon."

Over the next two weeks, Bergisa avoided arguing with her husband, taking on the role of a quiet and demure wife. She didn't even argue with the really outrageous things he said. Finally, Lancelot appealed to a higher power. "Arthur, talk to Morgaine, please? She'll tell you what's going on. And you can tell me what's going on. I just want my wife back!" he moaned, his eyes pleading. "She doesn't love me anymore!"

Arthur nodded with a roll of his eyes, "All right. I'll go talk to my sister and tell you what she said."

Lancelot gave a great sigh of relief. "Thank you, Arthur. I owe you."

Arthur nodded, before leaving the Chamber. Approaching his sister's apartments, he smiled at the sound of a child's joyous laughter from behind closed doors. Knocking, he eased open the door. Morgaine sat in her rocking chair, doing the mending as Gawain and Galahad sat on the floor, tossing their youngest son back and forth between them and eliciting great peals of giggles. "I hate to disturb, but I was wondering if I might borrow Morgaine."

Morgaine looked up at her brother with a smile. "I'm coming, Arthur."

Setting her stitching aside she stood and limped toward her brother. It broke her brother's heart to watch her stumble toward him. The injury to her leg had long since healed, though the limp was not fading at all. Morgaine speculated in a kind of detached monotone that there had probably been muscle damage and that "the patient" -in this case, her- would probably walk with a limp all her life.

Offering her his arm, he shortened his usual stride as they ambled amiably through the hallways. "Beautiful day, isn't it, Morgaine?"

Morgaine smiled, knowing her brother's tactic for what it was. She shook her head and decided to play along, replying, "Absolutely." Smiling, she continued absently, "The sun is so wonderful, hidden by the clouds and a sense of gloom seems to settle over Camelot accompanied by feelings of dread and remorse."

Arthur chuckled, realizing when he'd been caught. "All right, Sister, I concede. There is no use in trying to blow you off course, is there?"

"No, Arthur. I told you once; to those of us that love you, you can hide nothing," she reminded him with a gentle smile. "What's wrong, Arthur?"

"Lancelot sent me to beg for your help. He said that Bergisa went to see you."

"Nearly three weeks ago now. What's wrong? Is she worse? Experiencing pain? Discharging blood? What!" she demanded, her imagination cooking up the worst possible things that could happen to an expectant mother.

Arthur answered her dryly, "She won't fight with him."

Morgaine stared, before chuckling, "Oh is that all?" She sighed, taking pity on the older Knight. "Bergisa is pregnant, Arthur. We should expect a child some time in the next seven months."

Arthur stared, literally thrown for a loop. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Arthur. Bergisa is pregnant. Which means you must not tell Lancelot. That is Bergisa's place."

Arthur nodded, continuing to walk beside his sister. Suddenly smiling, he looked down at her in curiosity. "Would you fancy a walk through the gardens, Sister?"

Looking up at him in confusion, she suddenly smiled. Taking her brother's offered arm, she nodded once, "I would love to take a walk through the gardens. I hear their beautiful at this time of the year."

He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, before the two disappeared toward the gardens.

That night, Lancelot finally couldn't take it anymore and he went to the source. "Bergisa!" he called, jogging to catch up with her.

Bergisa turned to look at her husband. "What's wrong, Lance? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. The question is, are you all right?"

Bergisa nodded with a small smile. "I'm fine. Have you figured it out yet or should I go get one of Vanora's pans?"

"Figured what out?"

Reaching up, Bergisa took her husband's face between her hands. "Lance…," she paused, before a bright smile burst across her face, "you're going to be a father."


	68. Chapter 68

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

HGandRHForever: Hey, I had missed you! I'm glad you thought it was fitting. And no, he won't exactly have it easy. And yes, Lancelot as a father. How ironic, considering what he said in the movie. I forgive you for not reading so much. I hope you still continue to read and enjoy.

the green lama: Yep, babies! I like babies too! That's why I write so many of them. And in the chapter where she is rescued, Galahad finds out that she's injured and she tells him what happened.an only get better. ;)

op: I'm glad you liked that line. Like I told Babak, everybody did. And I updated more today. I hope you like it.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yep, baby for Lancey. And I'm glad you liked that line. It's my crowning moment. I know you don't hate me. I love you.

ZELINIA: I would have too. But Bergisa is a bit more patient than either of us it seems. I mean, she's married to LANCELOT! That requires all the patience in the world.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you liked that line. And here's his reaction.

dw: Hey baby! Weding. It can only get better. ;)

op: I'm glad you liked that line. Like I told Babak, everybody did. And I updated more today. I hope you like it.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yep, baby for Lancey. And I'm glad you liked that line. It's my crowning moment. I know you don't hate me. I love you.

ZELINIA: I would have too. But Bergisa is a bit more patient than either of us it seems. I mean, she's married to LANCELOT! That requires all the patience in the world.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you liked that line. And here's his reaction.

dw: Hey baby! Welcome back! I've missed you. I'm glad you liked her advice. I thought it would be appropriate in this case. Lancelot is kind of an idiot sometimes. I hope you continue to read. Miss you much when you're gone.

_Last time on "Healer" _

_Reaching up, Bergisa took her husband's face between her hands. "Lance…," she paused, before a bright smile burst across her face, "you're going to be a father."_

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Lancelot stared at her like a total idiot for maybe ten minutes, his jaw hanging loose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Bergisa giggled, nodding at him, "Morgaine confirmed it weeks ago. She thought you would figure it out. Apparently, she has a higher esteem in your intelligence than the rest of us do."

Lancelot glared at her for a moment, before his eyes drifted over her. Now that he knew what it was that was changing, he could see the differences in her. Mentally, he smacked himself in the head for not noticing it sooner. Her body was getting curvier and there was a touch of plumpness about her middle. She was _glowing_. Taking her face gently between his hands, he kissed her sweetly. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and murmured, "I love you."

Bergisa's gentle smile burst into a radiant grin. She pulled him to her, confiding, "I love you, too, Lance." Engaging in a long, passionate kiss, she seemed to realize something and pulled back again, "But if you tell anyone that, I'll deny it to the end of the world. I have a reputation to protect."

Lancelot nodded, "As you wish." (Name that movie? Anyone?)

Staring at her for a second, he suddenly realized that his wife was pregnant and he was going to be a **father**! The entire palace knew when Bergisa finally told Lancelot what the rest of them had guessed weeks before. There was a loud _whoop!_ and general euphoric laughter.Letting out a loud shout, he scooped her up and around, the two of them laughing happily together.

From the garden below their window, the occupants of the garden could hear their merriment. Morgaine was seated by the fountain, giving her leg a much needed break, with her brother sprawled out on the bench with his head in her lap. Smiling, she commented idly to her brother, "It's about time she told him."

Arthur smiled. "Now let's see what happens. I have feeling that this pregnancy is going to be a lot more interesting than that of the other wives."

Over the next three weeks, Lancelot basically wrapped Bergisa in fine linen, protecting her from anything that could even touch her. The other Knights understood the compulsion, most had done the same to their own wives during their pregnancies, while the women sighed and commiserated with their poor, cloistered companion. However, he was quickly regretting his desire to protect her. It was disagreeing with his desire to shake her at times. His desperate need to argue with his wife would not fade away.

Finally Morgaine approached him, her mind set on giving the man a stern what-for. She was positive he was being ridiculous and was determined to tell him so. He beamed every time someone congratulated him on his upcoming child, but otherwise, he was despondent and defeated, and generally downtrodden. Coming across him as he paced back and forth miserably, Morgaine rolled her eyes and snapped, "Lance, this is ridiculous!" Letting out a frustrated sigh, she questioned, "What's wrong?"

"I miss fighting with Bergisa," he moaned, ducking his head.

"So fight with her. For crying out loud, you could fight with me or with Arthur. You and Arthur, if I recall aright, were very fond of screaming at each other about nothing while I was 14 and first at the Wall. For the sake of the Gods, you could even go and spar with Galahad! Anything would be better than this hopelessness."

Lancelot shook his head. "None of you are Bergisa. It's just not the same without her specific voice harping at me."

"Don't let Bergisa hear you say you think she harps on you," Morgaine muttered, rolling her eyes and reminding him patiently, "You were the one who decided that fighting with Bergisa wasn't good for her. Now that she's passed the first trimester, she'll be fine. You can argue with her all you want."

Lancelot shook his head. "I don't want to hurt her."

The Dark Child threw up her hands in frustration. "You wouldn't hurt her! Why would you even think that? Despite how much you two get under each other's skin, you love her and the last thing you would ever do is hurt Bergisa."

Lancelot nodded, before shouting at her, "This isn't fair! Why did you have to tell her she's pregnant! Everything was perfect until you told her she was pregnant!"

Morgaine shot right back, "Bergisa wants this child! Your personal pity party? Not my problem!"

The two argued for several moments before Lancelot just stopped. Curious, Morgaine cocked an eyebrow. "What is wrong with you?"

"It's not the same," he moaned, before a familiar and scathing voice behind him snapped, "Oh can it, you arrogant windbag. You sound like Ryan when he hasn't gotten something he wants. He whines and moans and cries. Grow up, husband."

Whirling, Lancelot glared at his wife, snapping back, "**You** are the cause of my misery, you old nag."

"NAG!" Bergisa shouted, waddling forward, her face nearly red with fury. "I'll show you a nag! For starters, why are you picking on Morgaine? She's been a total angel about this whole thing. Putting up with your pouting like you were one of her own children. How she managed to put up with you for so many years is completely beyond my comprehension."

Lancelot smirked, commenting idly, "Maybe it's because she's madly in love with me!"

Morgaine rolled her eyes, throwing up her hands and disappearing from the room, leaving the two shouting at each other behind her. Gawain and Galahad looked up at her as she came into their apartments. "Are they finally fighting?"

"Finally," Morgaine muttered, sinking carefully into her rocking chair. "Ugh, my leg is killing me."

Leaving Galahad to amuse their children, Gawain moved and started to rub the flesh of her thigh firmly with his thumbs. "Better?" he questioned, his eyes filled with concern. "Lady, am I hurting you?"

Morgaine shook her head, running her fingers back through his hair. "No love, that feels marvelous."

Closing her eyes, she smiled as she took in the sounds of her family living around her. "Do you think that the other Knights are as happy with their lives as we are?" she asked rhetorically.

Galahad looked up and smiled at her peaceful features. Ever since marrying Jols to Amara and learning of Bergisa's pregnancy, her nightmares had loosened their hold on her. And her own welcome news, after the initial panic and consequent freak-out, had helped ease her terror some as well. She was getting better and everyday the two Knights she had married thanked the gods that she was healing. Murmuring softly enough for her to hear him, he replied, "No, Nazneen, no one could ever be as happy as we are."

Morgaine's eyes fluttered open and she gave a sleepy, sated smile. "I love you, Sarmatian."

Galahad smiled and blew her a kiss, replying, "And I love you, Nazneen."

"I love you Gawain," Morgaine murmured, feeling the gentleness in Gawain's hands starting to drag her into dreamless oblivion. Gawain smiled and leaned up from his task to kiss her lips sweetly, murmuring in return, "And I love you, my Lady."

When at last she slept, Gawain lifted her from her rocking chair and laid her in their bed. Bending to kiss her forehead, he murmured softly, "May the Gods bless you with dreamless sleep." Turning, he turned to playing with his children with Galahad, the tiny family playing quiet games that wouldn't wake their beloved wife and mother.

Meanwhile Arthur was spending that afternoon, responsibility-free, with his wife and daughters. He leaned back against his wife's chest, playing a child's card game with his daughters. Morgause giggled uproariously as she tossed down a card to beat her father's. Arthur feigned shock, staring at his youngest with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "You beat me!" he gasped, sounding horrified.

She continued to giggle, before giggles turned to squeals as he surged forward and started to tickle his daughter fiercely. His older two daughters, seeing that their father was torturing their sister, joined the pile, ganging up on their father. Soon all four were rolling about on the floor, laughing as Guinevere sat back and watched with an indulgent smile. Finally his daughters gained the upper hand, sending Arthur's deep throated chuckle rumbling through the room. Looking over at his wife, he begged her with sparkling eyes, "Wife? Can't you help?"

Guinevere smiled back, before nodding, "I guess I could help."

Crawling over, she assisted her daughters in tickling their father. Arthur roared with laughter, before rolling and pinning his wife under his body. "I have taken a hostage," he teased, "and I shall perform a perfected form of torture that all husbands perform on their wives."

Guinevere's eyes shone with love as she cocked an eye up at her husband. "Oh, really? And what kind of torture is that?"

Arthur's voice was low and husky, as he replied, "This."

His lips tangled with her, their lips meshing together as though they were made for each other. Their daughters giggled, covering their eyes with their tiny hands. "Ew! Daddy's kissing Mommy!" Igraine squealed, giggles coloring her voice with amusement and laughter.

Arthur pulled back from his wife and turned to look at his daughters. "And now I will perform the same torture on you three."

Sweeping all three of his daughters into his arms, he pressed quick kisses all over their faces, causing joyous giggles to emerge from their bodies. Guinevere joined her husband in covering them with kisses, before the happy family subsided on the floor. Arthur lay on his back, his head on the cushions that littered the floor for just this reason, with Guinevere curled around Igraine was who nestled against his right side under his arm. Viviane was tucked close to her father, on her mother's opposite side, with little Morgause sprawled across her father's chest. Kissing each of his women's faces, Arthur murmured reverently, "I love you."

Getting a chorus of "I love you's" caused Arthur's heart to fill with love and the five laid there until dinner, just talking about their individual days. And when he watched his daughters giggle together, he mused thoughtfully that no one could ever be as happy as him and his family.


	69. Chapter 69

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my kindly reviewers. Apparently not everyone got reviews for 67, so those of you that didn't….here they are. And 68 will have a section all around.

HGandRHForever: Hey, I had missed you! I'm glad you thought it was fitting. And no, he won't exactly have it easy. And yes, Lancelot as a father. How ironic, considering what he said in the movie. I forgive you for not reading so much. I hope you still continue to read and enjoy.

the green lama: Yep, babies! I like babies too! That's why I write so many of them. And in the chapter where she is rescued, Galahad finds out that she's injured and she tells him what happened. I don't remember what chapter that is. Fifty-eight or fifty-nine sounds close, though. I hope you enjoy. I told you you'd pass! Congratulations!

Evenstar-mor2004: I didn't know how your mother told your father. Though it sounds as though it's an interesting family anecdote. I hope you like this.

Babak: yep, me and my cliffhangers. (What about me and my cliffies? People generally seem to like them.) And yep, you're going to be a mommy. I've very happy for you. Big hug I'm glad you liked that line. It seemed like everybody loved that line.

Natalie: Glad you liked it. Keep reading. It can only get better. ;)

op: I'm glad you liked that line. Like I told Babak, everybody did. And I updated more today. I hope you like it.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yep, baby for Lancey. And I'm glad you liked that line. It's my crowning moment. I know you don't hate me. I love you.

ZELINIA: I would have too. But Bergisa is a bit more patient than either of us it seems. I mean, she's married to LANCELOT! That requires all the patience in the world.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you liked that line. And here's his reaction.

dw: Hey baby! Welcome back! I've missed you. I'm glad you liked her advice. I thought it would be appropriate in this case. Lancelot is kind of an idiot sometimes. I hope you continue to read. Miss you much when you're gone.

Chapter 68: Everyone who said that the line "As you wish!" was from the Princess Bride….was right. You all have bragging rights. Brag to everyone! Here's the Kindly words for Chapter 68.

Babak: I'm so sorry you didn't get your shout-outs! You're my baby! I love you! I'm glad you liked this chapter. And yes, things are going to get interesting. I promise. It is going to be a long nine months for everyone. And I'm glad you liked the scenes with Arthur and Morgaine and their families. That's the most important element of my story, I think. The family ties that these men all share.

HGandRHForever: I'm glad you like my story as much as you like the Princess Bride. And yes, you're forgiven. I'm glad you liked the part with Arthur and his children. I thought it was a special moment for them.

Tracy137: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you liked it. Keep reading and enjoy!

the green lama: Yes, happy families. And yes, it is a little weird that Lancelot and Bergisa are always fighting, but so deeply in love. It's a special thing for them. I'm glad you liked Arthur and Guinevere. And the movie was the Princess Bride. Hope you keep reading.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Keep reading!

Evenstar-mor2004: At least his daughters are still young. ;) It'll get worse as they grow older.

vivalaROCK: Welcome to the Party! And yeah, I beat my dad at Texas Hold'em and Blackjack every time.

Babytigercub15: Welcome to the party! I'm glad you like this story. It's my favorite of all that I'm writing. Well, this one and Trials We Face. Read it! It's in the OC section.

Natalie: I'm glad you liked Arthur and his daughters. And yes, Lance is very happy that he and Bergisa are fighting again.

lilstrummrgrl527:I'm glad you liked the chapter. I hope you enjoy this one. And yeah, Lance is a little weird.

op: Happy families! Yeah, things could go downhill. Or maybe they won't. Don't worry so much. ;)

dw: I'm glad you liked it.

ZELINIA: Yes, yes it is. I'm glad you liked Morgaine's arguing with Lancelot. They really are brother and sister. Guinevere and their daughters will continue to play their roles. I promise.

See ya'll on Wednesday! ;)

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Morgaine and Bergisa had discovered they were pregnant around the same time and were only about a week apart. Morgaine had initially panicked and had wanted to rid herself of the child, positive that it was Urien's. Horrified by the thought, both Galahad and Gawain had taken her aside and forced her to calm down. Together, they had counted the months of her pregnancy. She, just like Bergisa, was only about two or three months along. There was no way the child she carried could be Urien's. It was a definite fact that the child had been conceived after her rescue by her husbands.

The two best friends, ecstatic about being pregnant at the same time, were always together, discussing baby names, sewing baby clothes and talking about the wonders of motherhood. They spent many days in Morgaine's chambers, sewing, quilting, gossiping or plotting. There was a lot happening in Camelot and much to discuss. It was also the year for babies it seemed.

Dagonet's wife Michelle, had produced another beautiful child, a little girl named Marianne, to add to their growing brood. There was their individual children: Dagonet's son, Lucan; Michelle's three, Accolon, and the twins, Denae and Maria; and their mutual son, Liam. As Morgaine had known he would, Dagonet took to fatherhood easily and with charm. He was a doting father and an adoring husband. Though Michelle and Dagonet had not been in love and had felt only a deep respect for one another at their wedding, respect had morphed into friendship and friendship had become love. They were very happy together.

A month after discovering that she too was pregnant, Isolde had suffered a heartbreaking miscarriage that had nearly killed her, and Morgaine had advised the couple not to try to have any more children. Tristan agreed, terrified that he would lose his wife if she became pregnant again, though Bergisa had confessed that Tristan wished for a little girl to raise and adore as the other Knights did their daughters. He watched Arthur adore his three, Gawain adore Sanora, Bors adore his girls and Dagonet adore both his twins and Marianne and wanted that for himself. Morgaine nibbled repeatedly on her lips, wondering what could be done to give Tristan a daughter.

However, nearly two months after Isolde's miscarriage, fate interceded on Tristan's behalf.

After almost midnight, there was an urgent knock on the door of the chamber Morgaine shared with her husbands and children. Morgaine sat up, her eyes blurry with sleep. The knock came again, this time more insistent. Galahad sat up as well, glaring at the door. "Who is it?" he called, sounding irritated.

"I apologize for disturbing you, Sir Galahad, but there is a woman in labor in the village. The Princess Morgaine has been called upon to attend her."

Morgaine's eyes widened. She was only called upon to midwife the wives of the Knights. The only time she attended the birthing of other women's children was when the attending midwife was loosing the mother and required a healer's touch more than that of a midwife's. "I'm coming!" she called, getting up and limping toward the armoire to dress.

Gawain sat up, using one hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. "What's going on, Lady?"

Morgaine didn't even bother to look at him as she replied, "I have to go to the village. I'll be back."

The two Knights looked at each other and stood, moving to dress. "You don't have to come with me. Go back to sleep," Morgaine encouraged, watching the two pull on their trousers and buckle their belts.

"We'd rather go. There are many who would love to hurt Arthur by taking out his sister and his number one advisor. You are invaluable to the running of this kingdom. And we promised we'd protect you."

Accepting Galahad's assistance in doing up the buttons marching down the back of her dress, she sent Gawain to fetch Vanora. Vanora came rushing back. Gawain had apprised her of the situation and she hustled forward to hug the woman tightly. "I'll watch the children. Bors has an eye on ours. Go on, dearie. The woman needs you."

Morgaine nodded and allowed Galahad to sweep her up into his arms, the two Knights setting off at a steady jog toward the village, her herbal bag firmly in Gawain's hands. When she arrived, she could immediately tell that it was too late to save the mother. But the child could be saved.

It was a girl. Her mother was already dead when the slippery little body slipped from her womb. Morgaine wrapped the baby in a swatch of her gown, looking up at the child's grandmother. "Would you like to hold her?"

The woman looked appalled and shook her head. She made a Celtic sign of warding, before spitting out, "Murderess."

Morgaine looked shocked, "She's a baby. She had no control over her mother's demise."

"Get that **thing** out of my house. It killed my daughter!"

Morgaine covered the babe's face and hurried as quickly as she could from the house, leaving the woman's family to cleanse the body for burial. Gawain and Galahad came to her side, looking down at the child. Galahad reached up and peeled away the blanket. His eyes softened as the baby's eyes blinked open fussily and she yawned widely. Her tiny arms waved and her mouth made soft sucking noises. "What are you doing with the baby, Nazneen?"

"The baby's mother is dead. And her grandmother wants nothing to do with her."

"What are you thinking, Lady?"

"Isolde is slipping away. Her heart is broken and Tristan so wants a daughter. If I leave this baby here, they'll expose her. If I take her with me, she can have the chance for a family and a lifetime filled with love."

Gawain nodded, touching the crown of the baby's head softly. "Come, let's take her to Tristan and Isolde."

Turning up the road, the three walked slowly back to Camelot. Galahad reached up and knocked on the door of the stoic scout and his tender wife. Isolde's voice, tired and soft, called out, "Come in."

Galahad opened the door, the two men waiting outside. "Hello, Isolde." Morgaine murmured, coming over to press a gentle kiss to the woman's brow. Noticing the empty place at her side, she questioned, "Where is your husband?"

"He went to get me some water from the well." It was then that Isolde noticed the bundle in Morgaine's arms. "What's in your arms, Morgaine?"

Morgaine moved toward the bassinet that had been made ready for Isolde's child, and picked up a blanket lying folded at the head. Wrapping the baby in it, she carried it back to her friend and laid the baby in her arms. Isolde's eyes widened at the sight of the sleeping baby in her grasp. Looking up at her, Isolde questioned, "Why are you giving her to me?"

Morgaine smiled and perched her pregnant bulk on the edge of the bed. "She needs a name. And only a mother can name her child."

Isolde lit up, her eyes bright and happy for the first time since she'd lost her child. Tristan returned to the sight of his wife and Princess sobbing together, Isolde holding a baby in her arms. "What's going on?"

Isolde looked over at her husband and sobbed, "Trist, we have a daughter."

Tristan looked confused, shooting a sharp look at Morgaine. Morgaine waved him to her. "Come and see your child, Tristan."

Tristan came to sit on Isolde's other side, pushing the blanket away from the baby's head. He took one look at the little girl's face and fell hopelessly in love with her. Looking up at Morgaine, he asked, "How?"

Morgaine smiled and kissed the scout's cheek fondly. Standing, she squeezed both of their hands tightly, before hobbling toward the door. "Let's just say that Fate has decided that you deserve a daughter. Enjoy her and name her well."

Morgaine slipped from the room and the next morning learned from the proud papa that together, they had named the little girl "Desiree Esperanza" which meant "longed for" and "hope." Tristan loved the little girl with everything he had, treating her adoringly. Morgaine only smiled from the shadows where she watched the world pass by.


	70. Chapter 70

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: First of all, I'm so sorry for the extended wait! I have been so busy. And I have missed you all like crazy. First there were finals at the university. Then there was my grandmother's impromptu arrival. And then there was the aftermath of "The Nana." It's been an interesting couple of weeks. But, it's over now and I'm back in the groove. And now onto Kindly Words for my Kindly Reviewers.

Chris: You're the best muse ever! Thank you so much for your continuing support.

Tony: I love you baby! You're my best friend. Your birthday? I'm in town, totally.

Babak: I love you sweetie! Thanks for your support. Nope, Morgaine's child isn't Urien's. And Dagonet's a daddy again! Yea! I'm glad you like the family ties. They are what are so important about this novel. It's not just about the Knights going all homicidal on people; it's their relationships with the ones they love as well. I hope you like this chapter.

tHe vOiCe WiThiN: Welcome to the Party! Good pen name. Interesting way to spell it. My auto-spellcheck went nuts. I'm glad you like it, even if you are late. Thank you for the compliment. Keep reading. It can only get better.

the green lama: Sorry, I hope this chapter is long enough for you. Enjoy, okay? She does watch the shadows in a way. She sets events into motion and then stands back and watches as these events play out for either the good or ill of those involved. Like Tristan and Isolde. She gave them their daughter. And now the couple will have another child to love. And she won't be apart of that, but she'll know that she brought them their child. It's an involved situation. And yes, Morgaine could have gotten rid of her child. Thankfully, Galahad and Gawain talked her out of it. Hallelujah.

op: I'm glad you liked it. Tristan has a little girl.

Evenstar-mor2004: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. That was not my intention at all. But if you cried, at least I know it was a good chapter.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you liked that chapter.

HGandRHForever: I'm glad you liked it. I thought that Tristan would be the kind of man who would have a "Daddy's Little Girl". He's just so good to his children. Heworshipsthe ground upon which they trod. Sorry, long winded. Translation: He adores the ground they walk on.

lilstrummrgrl: I'm glad you liked that chapter. And yes, have to make family for Tristan's doll. They're very important to him, you know. And yes, it is the year for babies. "The best things in life aren't things." And I want a big family too. I want to adopt all of the children I can possibly handle. (I want fourteen. Seriously.)

ZELINIA: I'm glad you liked it.

Natalie: Yes, Tristan has his baby girl. I'm glad you liked the name.

Chapter Seventy

As a general rule, most people avoided Lancelot and Bergisa when they were arguing. It was the only way to live until the following dawn. They were fiercely protective of their arguments and had no qualms about causing bodily harm to anyone who got in their way. The only notable exception to this was Lancelot's own sister, Hestia.

When they had first arrived in Sarmatia almost three years ago, Hestia -sweet, gentle and naïve little Hestia- had constantly come between them. It had driven the newly-wedded couple to absolute distraction. It had taken the intervention of Morgaine and her husbands to convince Hestia that she was doing no one any good, only ill, by her interference.

Nearly six months into her pregnancy, Bergisa had filled out charmingly and her burgeoning belly plowed the way for her. And since the Princess Morgaine and Lady Bergisa were always in each other's company, their path was exceptionally wide. On one occasion, the two were walking down the hallway and managed to catch up with a tiny squire. Seeing who was on his heels, he'd dashed to get away, plowing face first into the wall before him. After it happened, Lancelot and the rest of the Knights constantly teased not only the squire, but the two pregnant women as well. The squires themselves teased their colleague and avoided any and all narrow walkways.

As the two women were nearing the dates of their deliveries, they began to get more and more frustrated with their husbands. Morgaine, more fond than annoyed, was used to Galahad and Gawain's hovering, having had two children in their presence before. Bergisa, however, had never had the pleasure of being smothered. And was about to take one of her husband's twin blades and castrate him with it.

The reaction between the three Knights were markedly different. For Galahad and Gawain, Morgaine's pregnancy was cause for worry, concern and not a little freaking out. But for Lancelot, all of the stress made this time period one of the best of his life. Bergisa was frustrated with him, which caused all kinds of arguments between the two.

On one such day, Bergisa and Morgaine were quilting in Bergisa's room. Lancelot came bursting in, greeting the two cheerfully, "Hello doves! How are you, this fabulous evening?"

Morgaine shrugged, determining to stay out of the disagreement. "I'm fine, Lance, how are you?"

"Positively giddy. I'm going to be a father, you know."

Morgaine rolled her eyes, commenting sarcastically, "No clue. You've only been telling everyone since you found out."

Bergisa looked up at her husband. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just came in to see if you needed anything."

"Lance, go away."

Staring at his wife, Lancelot adopted a look of mock-indignation. "I'm only trying to help, wife."

"Well, your help is starting to ride on my last nerve. You're walking a tight rope and you're about to fall off."

Lancelot approached his wife, turning on all of his charm. "But, Bergisa, my lady, my love…."

Bergisa shook her head, fiercely, "Oh no you don't. Don't you 'my lady, my love' me. I've had it up to here with you and your help!"

Lancelot scowled. "Well fine! Just be that way, you old witch!"

"Witch! What about you, you insolent mosquito!"

"I am not a mosquito!" he cried in outrage. Turning to Morgaine, he questioned, "What's a mosquito?"

"It's a bug, Lance. A bug that bites people, hovers around their heads until they go insane, at which time the little buggers suck their blood."

Whirling back to Bergisa, he spoke again, "Now that I know what one is…." He took a deep breath and roared, "I am not a mosquito."

The two started to bicker, leaving Morgaine to roll her eyes and continue quilting. All of a sudden, Bergisa broke off and hunched over. Morgaine dropped her quilt into her lap and reached out, "Bergisa?"

"Ow!" she griped, one hand gripping her stomach loosely. "That hurt."

Lancelot, concerned he'd injured her, leaped forward and wrapped his arms around his wife. "Bergisa, what happened?"

"Nothing. It hurts."

Morgaine took the woman's hand and inquired, "What hurts?"

"My stomach. It clenched."

"Clenched?" Lancelot asked, though Morgaine knew exactly what the woman was talking about. "All right. Into bed with you."

Lancelot looked at Morgaine, "What's wrong with her? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, Lance. Relax."

The two helped Bergisa into bed, where she reclined against her pillows and picked up her argument with her husband as though nothing had happened. Lancelot, happy to see that she was okay, was more than happy to continue where they'd left off. "Do you need anything? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Stop hovering! I don't need to be rescued, you arrogant son-of-a-Roman!"

"I am not a Roman!"

"I didn't say you were. I said you were the son of a Roman." Bergisa reminded him, before the two of them started to scream at each other, once again.

Morgaine, from the opposite side of the room, only rolled her eyes, pulling on the velvet cord to call the servants. Three pretty young maids entered quickly. "What's wrong, Your Highness?"

"I need soft cloths, water boiled and fresh linen. And be quick about it."

The three women bobbed curtsies and ran from the room. Morgaine nibbled on her lower lip for a moment, before shouting after them, "And someone inform my brother that Bergisa has gone into labor."

Bergisa's head whipped to look at Morgaine, before she too shouted, "And someone tell my brother that I'm in labor!"

One maid raced toward the practice area, to inform the two knights, while the other two raced to do as their Princess had told them.

Bergisa's hours of labor were filled with her screams. Though they were not the usual screams of agony that took place during labor. They were the screams of anger and dismay at her husband. Lancelot, thrilled by the turn of events, was practically jumping for joy at their arguments. Bergisa's hand gripped his forearm, tightening painfully when she was waylaid by a contraction. Lancelot was surprised at her grip and was bleeding in more than one spot before the end of her labor. But during each moment between the contractions, the two would argue as though she wasn't trying to bring their child into the world.

Finally, the contractions were no more than seconds apart. By now, Bergisa's fingers were causing immense pain, and Lancelot was begging anyone who would listen to trim his wife's prized nails. "Someone cut them! Please! For the love of the Gods! Cut them! Before she cuts open me!"

Morgaine rolled her eyes from her place between Bergisa's legs. "If you ask me, Brother, she's already cut you open."

"Minor detail."

Bergisa suddenly let out an unholy scream and Lancelot panicked. Bergisa let loose with a string of insults that would have made the most foul-mouthed sailor's ears burn. Lancelot's cheeks burned in embarrassment at her language, though Morgaine only chuckled and assured him it was normal. Nearly an hour later, Bergisa held her two children in her arms; one a boy and the other a girl. The girl they named Cyria and the boy was called Cyrus. The sun and the moon. Possessed of newborn blue eyes, they both had a mop of black curls on their heads. Everyone in the palace could tell that Lancelot worshiped the two completely. The boy was his pride and joy, while the girl was the light in his eyes.

Only two hours later, Morgaine herself took to her bed. Galahad and Gawain went with her, concerned about her paleness. Before long, Galahad barged into the Chamber of the Round Table, interrupting the Council between Arthur, his remaining Knights and Merlin. Arthur looked at him, confused. "What is it?"

"It's Morgaine."

Everyone surged from their seats. "What about Morgaine?" Arthur demanded, his emerald eyes dark with concern.

Galahad was grinning like an idiot as he announced, "She's in labor."

Dagonet inquired, "Are you sure?"

Galahad cocked an eyebrow at him, reminding him, "I have three other children. Of course I'm sure."

The men raced toward the apartments Morgaine shared with her husbands, the women already at work. Gawain was pacing back and forth in the antechamber, having been kicked out by Guinevere nearly five minutes before. Morgaine's labor took no time at all and before the Knights even knew it, she had brought forth a second daughter within twenty minutes. She had a head of tight black curls and her eyes glinted green, marking her obviously as Galahad's daughter. They named her "Freya" which meant "noblewoman." The two women spent several hours in confinement with their families, before the rest of the Knights came to adore and admire the children.

Lancelot, Galahad and Gawain met up later, toasting each other for the newest additions to their families. Already pretty drunk on wine and awe, Lancelot boasted, "I can withstand any kind of pain now."

Galahad cocked an eyebrow, as Gawain just chuckled, "Oh really?"

"Of course. Arrows in battle are nothing compared to Bergisa's nails during the throes of labor."

Galahad shook his head. "I see."

Lancelot, assuming that Galahad didn't believe him, challenged, "Shoot me."

"What!" Gawain exploded confused.

"Go on! Shoot me! Arrows, daggers, something."

Galahad shrugged and pulled out his bow, stringing it and loading an arrow. Pulling it back, he aimed at Lancelot's left shoulder. Realizing that his best friend was serious, Gawain put a hand out and directed the bow toward the ground. "Galahad, no."

"He told me to shoot him."

"He won't feel the same way about it come dawn. Tomorrow morning, if you shoot him, he'll probably be looking to kill you."

Galahad shrugged. "All right. But just remember, he told me to." Turning to Lancelot, he confessed, "When you sober up, if you still want me to shoot you, just give the word."

Lancelot let out a snore and both of the best friends rolled their eyes. "Congratulations!" they told each other, before leaving their comrade sleeping in a chair in the tavern. Vanora found him the next morning, face first in his ale. She only chuckled and sent him back to his bed.

The women kept their children ensconced for several weeks and then met with the other new mothers, watching their children grow. Together they marveled that life had been so good to them; healthy children they whom adored, loving husbands whom they cherished, and a land where they were free and equal with the men.

There was not much more that they could hope for.


	71. Chapter 71

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: I apologize for my tardiness in updating this. But, seeing as school is out, I will not longer have easy access to a Internet compatible computer. My mother is always on, and my own laptop doesn't get the Internet. So, I apologize in advance. This by no stretch means that this story is discontinued. It will simply be delayed from time to time. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.

Spoiler: Today, Amara and Jols learn about some upsetting news that determine their future together. I hope you continue to enjoy. Keep a handkerchief close by. Trust me, you'll need it.

And now, Kindly words for my Kindly reviewers.

Chris: I imagine it is very confusing to have children ranging from One to Ten. I imagine it is very confusing indeed. I'm glad you've been able to catch up some. I'm not busy next week, do you want to meet up? And you're right. But sometimes, Fever could be the greatest threat in the long run. And yes, Guinevere is a little squeamish, but only around blood. And technically, she's pregnant, so it's allowed. And yes, if Morgaine died, Galahad and Gawain would never forgive themselves. Ever. And yes, the weddings. You know you love me. Not in that way.

petpoor: Welcome to the Party! Yes. It is kinda typical. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Babak: Sorry it's been so long sweetie! I missed you. I'm glad you liked the last chapter. And I'm glad you like your alter-ego's sense of humor. She amuses me. Very much. And yes, Freya, Cyra and Cyrus are going to be inseparable and unstoppable, when they get older of course. And yes, today begins the ominous drums of mischief.

The green lama: Yes, Healer WAS completed. But I've been having so much fun with it, that I have elongated it. SO, yeah. Sorry about taking so long. Both times. But I really need to have a better connection with computers. Don't worry, Healer is still going strong. I just won't be able to update it as often as usual. And yes, Lancelot wasn't being very sensible. But when is Lancelot known for his sensibilities? And, you can't blame the guy really. He's a father. He's just have a celebratory drink…..or eleven.

HGandRHForever: I missed you too! And I'm glad I'm back again. And yes, this is the calm before the storm. There's another war on the horizon and all bets are off.

tHe vOiCe WiThiN: I'm glad you like Lancelot and Bergisa. They're one of my favorite couples. And yes, Bergisa is an awesome woman. She knows how to beat her husband at his own game….arguing. And yes, Lancelot can be a little weird, but that's okay, but at least Bergisa still loves him. And I don't know, they're still babies. And I'm glad you like the names.

Evenstar-more2004: I see you've discovered my plot twist. Kindly keep it to yourself please. Thank you.

ZELINIA: No, I haven't gotten your chapter. Please, send it again. And I'm glad you liked the chapter. And nothing happened to me, except for non-access to a decent computer. But that's all.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yeah, that was a typo. Ignore it. It's only been about a year and a few months, that's all. And I'm glad your glad Urien's dead. I didn't like him either. That's why Tristan killed him. And I'm glad you like Lancelot. He's just being his usual cocky self, that's all. I have so much fun with his character, it's amazing. And yeah, Dag hasn't had a funny moment. He's not really a fun Knight. I'm sorry, but he's not. And I'm glad you liked the labor scene. I thought it was appropriate. And I'm glad you think I nailed Lancelot exactly. That makes me very happy. And yes, the twins are precious. I want to see pictures of the dolls.

dw: And yes, I'm back. And yes, Bergisa is one of those women who scream and curse.

Op: I'm sorry! Don't die! I love you. I miss you, snuggle-muffin. I hope you like this chapter. Keep a hankie on hand. Trust me.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you liked that part. I makes sense, I mean they are best friends and practically inseparable. It only makes sense that they'd been so in tune with one another.

Chapter Seventy-One

Everyone was waiting for when Amara and Jols would announce their own little miracle. Though it was not unusual for a mother to be pregnant right from the get go, there was also the possibility that gods didn't think that the time was right and were only waiting until it was time for a child. Bergisa and Lancelot had not gotten pregnant until nearly a year after their marriage. And now, they were blessed with two beautiful children who were the light in the eyes of all that knew them.

At last, several years after their marriage, Amara found herself in Morgaine's infirmary with the usual pregnancy symptoms. It gave Morgaine no little pleasure to be able to confide in the beautiful blond that she would bringing her own child into the world within the next few months.

Almost immediately, however, there were complications. Amara's body was not built to bear children. She was tiny and her hips were still slender. The first complication came when she nearly miscarried. She, Morgaine, Bergisa and Guinevere had been walking through the garden, when Amara had suddenly doubled over in agony. Blood had begun to seep from between her legs. Morgaine had had her rushed to the infirmary and luckily the Healer was able to stop the bleeding and halt the miscarriage. But it was decided that during her pregnancy Amara would remain in bed.

However, it became apparent to everyone that little Amara was fading away and fading fast. Arthur was careful to keep Jols at Camelot, the women fussing around the pregnant woman and her husband in an attempt to make their remaining lives together easier.

One day, nearly five months into Amara's pregnancy, Morgaine was checking on mother-to-be and her unborn child. She sighed, sitting back on her heels. Shaking her head, she looked up to meet Amara's eyes. Amara only smiled sadly at the Sarmatian Princess. "I know. I'm not going to live through birth, am I?"

"Gods, Amara. I'm so sorry," Morgaine stated, her eyes filling with helpless tears. She felt so useless; what was the point of being a Healer if she couldn't heal those that were closest to her?

"It's not your fault, Your Highness. I am happy to be pregnant. And I have never been happier in my life, than when I married my Jols."

Morgaine smiled, remembering the gentle and quiet courtship the two equally shy individuals had engaged in. "You were so happy. And now, he's going to lose you."

"My husband is a good man. He will mourn me and someday, hopefully, marry again. I can only hope my child survives so that Jols has someone to love until he has healed enough to love another."

"I will do my utmost best to ensure the survival of your child, Amara. You have my word."

She smiled, her eyes dragging with exhaustion. "I am tired, Highness. If you would excuse me, I would rest?"

Morgaine nodded, standing and pressing a doting kiss to the older woman's forehead. "I will send Jols to you."

Amara nodded, touching the Sarmatian Princess' cheek gently, before her eyes slipped closed and she slept. Morgaine shifted the bedclothes about her, tucking the frail little body in before slipping from the room. Her head was bowed in grief, watching the lie of the cobblestones beneath her feet as she walked from the room. Galahad was standing in the shadows, watching his wife wander aimlessly through the hallways. Her limp was more pronounced than normal and her eyes were glistening with hidden tears. Stepping forward, he stopped before her. Morgaine looked up, her heart breaking for Jols. Galahad reached out, touching her cheek gently. "I love you," he confided, his eyes grave.

Her grief overcame her then, forcing the normally-strong Dark Child to her knees in her agony. "Ah, Gods, Galahad. What use am I to anyone? I cannot even protect those that I love from the guardian of the Otherworld."

Galahad gathered her close, allowing her to sob into his chest. Her tears soaked his tunic and still she cried, the terror of her experience in Sarmatia and Constantinople combining with the pain of losing a trusted friend. His fingers trailed through her hair and he spoke quietly into her hair. Finally, after the moments turned to minutes and the minutes turned to hours, Morgaine's tears had spent themselves and she curled exhausted against the chest of her youngest husband. Galahad pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, his fingers pushing her sable hair from her face before he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their chamber. Lying her on the bed, he trailed his fingers along the smooth flesh of her arms. Under the tender caress, her eyes grew heavy and the Dark Child, beloved of all those within Camelot's walls, slipped into a deep slumber.

Nearly three months later, Amara was woken by a sharp pain in her side. Biting down on her lip, she tried to hold in her cries, reluctant to wake her husband. However, the pain finally became too much and she reached over, shaking Jols' shoulder and forcing him awake. "Jols?" she whimpered.

Hearing the pain in his wife's voice, Jols shot up, his eye seeking out his wife in the dark. "Mara? What's wrong?"

"I think the baby comes, Jols. Send for Morgaine and the other women."

Jols nodded, pressing a sharp kiss to her lips in comfort, before dressing and running toward the apartments of the Dark Child and her Knights. Morgaine sat up in surprise as the doors burst inward. Squinting, she could just make out the outline of Jols in the doorway. "Jols, what is it?"

"It's Amara, my lady. Please, help her."

Morgaine nodded, shaking her husbands awake and crawling to dress. She threw a wrapper over her nightgown and reached for her cane. "Take me to her, Jols. Gawain….Galahad, inform the other Knights and their Ladies."

Both men nodded and ran to do as told. The hours passed and Morgaine fought to keep Amara alive long enough to deliver a healthy baby into the world. Jols would not be moved from her side and sat, perched on the edge of the bed as Amara labored to bring forth their child. At long last the child -a beautiful little girl- was born into the world. Morgaine wrapped the babe in a blanket and laid her in Amara's arms. "Congratulations, Mother. Name your child."

Amara nodded once, feeling her lifeblood drain from her body as she continued to hemorrhage. Looking up at Jols, she murmured, "Takara."

Jols smiled sadly, tears glistening in his eyes. "Takara? Our little Treasure? Are you sure?"

She nodded once, her eyes growing heavy. "Yes, Jols. Takara. Please?"

Jols leaned over and kissed her forehead, his eyes closing and sending tears coursing down the contours of his face. "Please, Amara. Don't leave me."

Her hand raised to caress the scarred planes of his face. "The ones we love never truly leave us, Jols. I will always remain at your side. But I feel myself growing weaker. I wish only to rest."

Jols drew her close to him. "Name her, Amara. Only a mother can name her child."

Every eye there was wet as Morgaine brought a chalice to the woman's side and Amara brushed a cotton cloth across the baby's forehead, declaring in a strong voice, "Before these witnesses, I name thee Takara, the Jewel and Treasure of your father's life."

Bringing the baby closer to her, Amara pressed a shaky kiss to the soft skin and then handed her to Jols. "Jols, my love, take care of her."

Jols nodded, kissing his daughter's head gently. Morgaine stepped forward, taking the babe from her father to allow the couple their last moments as Amara clung to life. Jols gave up the child gladly, taking both of his wife's hands between his own. He squeezed them tightly, as though the pressure of his grip could keep her with him. Amara smiled up at him, her eyes growing heavy. "I love you."

Jols nodded tearfully, "I love you, Mara. I always will."

"Heal, Jols, and remarry. Be happy. That is all I could want for you."

Jols shook his head, but Amara cut him off sternly, "Promise me, Jols. Promise me you will remarry and be happy. That is all I ask of you."

Jols ducked his head, but nodded, unable to do anything else. "I promise, Amara. God forgive me, but I promise."

Amara smiled at him, her hand gripping the back of his neck and she pulled him down for a desperate kiss. Settling back against her pillows again, she closed her eyes with a soft smile. Jols' fingers trailed gently across the flesh of her fingers as quietly, peacefully, Amara faded away. The women let out a great sob as their companion died, but Jols only stood. Leaning over her, he pressed a loving kiss to the cooling flesh of her forehead, confessing to the spirit he hoped lingered still, "I love you, Amara. May your gods grant you Elysian."

Turning his back, he left the death chamber. Morgaine followed him out, tiny Takara in her arms, leaving the other women to cleanse and dress the body. Takara spent the night among the Dark Child's children, sharing Freya's bassinet. Morgaine would be the only mother Takara would ever know. Many would be her caretakers, but Morgaine would always be the one to whom Takara would run on shaky legs, crying out, "Mama! Mama!"

It broke the hearts of all those that heard her.


	72. Chapter 72

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

And now, Kindly words for my Kindly reviewers.

tHe vOiCe WiThiN: Don't worry about it. At least you updated. I'm glad you liked the chapter. And yes, I have seen the movie and the actual musical. But that's not what I was thinking when I wrote it. But that's an interesting connection. I'd bet a thousand dollars that that's the music I was listening to when I wrote it though. And I actually got all of my names from a Baby Name book. I love them. And just a quick note, Amara wasn't Christian, but Jols was. And so he was hoping that HER Gods granted her an Elysian. And yes, we all hope that she receives Elysian. She totally deserves it.

Chris: You and I need to get together again.

ZELINIA: I hope you get my Email. And I did have a reason for killing off Amara. I promise. She didn't die in vain.

Countess Jackman: I'm glad you like this. And I'm assuming that you're new. I think. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.

Evenstar-mor2004: I do! I love Jols! But Amara was never his end all. I have bigger plans for Jols. Trust me. His heart will love again, I promise, and that woman will be his soulmate. Please don't be mad!

Babak: Yes, Takara has been officially adopted by the rest of the group. And yes, there will be a battle in the future, but not yet. I'm glad you like my twists. They are pretty interesting, aren't they? Thank you for the congrats. I'm very happy I've passed 400 reviews. Let's try to make it 500, okay?

lilstrummrgrl527: Big hug, honey! I'm glad you liked it though. And no, there won't be anyone else killed off like that. I promise.

Sorceress Misha: Welcome to the Party! I don't remember seeing your name before, so Welcome anyway. I'm sorry. But Jols will fall in love again, I promise.

op: I hope you like this chapter. It's a happy one, just for you, okay, sweetie-pie?

the green lama: I'm sorry. And yes, Jols will have another woman soon. You have my word. And trust me, Amara is in a better place. Remember? She's in Elysian.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I hope you like this chapter.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Several years later, Lucan and his step-brother, Accolon, had turned 16. Walking through the village, Lucan's eyes were caught by a group of young women. Standing amongst that group was a young girl, maybe 14 or so. Locking eyes with each other, the two blushed. Accolon, having caught the look, spoke slyly, "Maybe you should talk to Aunt Morgaine about arranging the match with her father."

"Maybe you should shut up!" Lucan snapped back, glaring at him, before glancing once again at the girl. "She's beautiful."

"She's a child. Where's Uncle Lance, anyway? He was supposed to be back today."

"He is coming back today. Aunt Bergisa is going crazy, imagining all the things he's been doing without her careful supervision.

Lancelot rode past at that moment, causing the two squires to run after him, shouting. Arthur met him on the steps, smiling at his best friend. "Well, Lance? What do you have to report?"

"Nothing but clear skies and empty oceans, sire."

Arthur grimaced at the term, chucking the contents of his goblet at him. Lancelot ducked away, laughing. "Where's Morgaine?"

"With Jols' daughter, Takara, and her own children. Ryan is half in love with that little girl."

"Let me guess….Morgaine is arranging a match?"

"They're a little young, but soon. Probably when they're Lucan and Accolon's age. She was looking at a young woman for Lucan the other day as a matter of fact."

Lucan looked horror stricken by the thought, his overactive imagination bringing to mind the ugliest woman he could be saddled with. Lancelot chuckled, nodding ruefully, "That sounds like Morgaine."

Moments later, Bergisa came flying past her king, lunging into her husband's arms, with Morgaine leaning heavily on a cane as she limped after her. The limp had grown worse with time and she was now forced to rely on a cane to remain upright. Morgaine stopped at her brother's side, tilting her cheek for his adoring kiss. Behind her ran their youngest children, laughing in the afternoon sun. All three born on the same day, Freya, Cyra and Cyrus were inseparable. The twins dashed at their father, demanding his attention and kisses. And when they had exhausted him, they dashed through the light and shadows, playing a fairytale game of tag that only the three children could understand.

Tiny Takara stopped at Morgaine's side, her thumb firmly in her mouth, one tiny, grubby hand gripping Morgaine's skirts. Arthur smiled at the scene, glad that the little girl had someone to take care of her. Lancelot's sister, Hestia, tried, but Morgaine had been the one to hold the babe at night when she had cried. The two had a special bond. "Hello, Rhiannon," Arthur murmured into his sister's midnight curls, hugging her close to his side.

"Don't you ever leave me alone for that long ever again," Bergisa ordered, drawing out of Lancelot's arms to scold, "For all I know, you've sown your wild oats with any village girls you came across out there."

"For all you know, maybe I did," he teased, causing Arthur and Morgaine to roll their eyes good-naturedly. The two of them knew that he was only trying to rile her.

And rile her, he did. Bergisa glared at him, her fist punching him hard in the shoulder, "You're a rogue and a rake, and I hate you."

"And I hate you, too, my own," he reassured her, straight-faced and solemn-eyed.

Unable to stand it for a moment later, Bergisa threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a devastating kiss. Lancelot pulled her close as well, before hauling her up and over his shoulder. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my chambers….," he paused, trying to come up with a suitable verb.

"Resting?" Morgaine supplied slyly.

"Aye, that's it. I'll be in my chambers, resting. With Bergisa. Bye."

The four observers laughed as Lancelot raced away with Bergisa over his shoulder, the girl screaming good-natured threats and insults at him with every step.

Morgaine caught sight of the two squires and smiled at her nephews. "Hello boys. Out for a jaywalk?"

Lucan blushed at having been caught, but Accolon showed no shame. "Yes, Aunt. How are you?"

"I'm old," she commented dryly.

Arthur snorted derisively. "If you're old," he insisted idly, "I'm ancient."

"Hello Ancient." Morgaine teased. Arthur glowered at her, swiping at her playfully. She ducked slowly out of the way, laughing, before turning to Lucan. "Takara, go find your Daddy. I bet he's missed his Princess," she teased, watching the little girl's eyes light up at the sound of "Daddy." Jols and Takara were best friends. And Jols loved his little girl like nothing else. She may run to Morgaine for comfort, but Jols was the one she ran to, to protect her from the monsters under the bed. She adored him, and he adored her. Ryan stepped forward from his mother's left. "I'll take her Mama."

"Thank you, sweeting," she encouraged, watching her Little King take Takara's hand and the two walked slowly toward the stables. Morgaine brought her attention back to Lucan, once she was sure they would be okay, "Would you care to take a walk with me, Lucan? My leg is acting up and my men are unavailable."

"I would be honored, Aunt," Lucan insisted, coming to her side. Offering her his arm, the two walked slowly from the palace courtyard.

Lucan, long-legged to begin with, had to rein in and accommodate his aunt's slower gait. She was used to being able to keep up with everyone, but with her leg still causing her problems, she walked with both the cane and a prominent limp and was usually left behind by whomever was walking with her. Unless they made the special effort to slow up and walk alongside her. "I was looking at a young woman, a girl rather, in the village for you the other day. She's very young, only 14 or so. But you'd like her, I thought. You won't have to marry her now. I'll just promise you to each other. And when she's older, you can do what you will."

"I don't want to marry anyone but her," Lucan confessed, his eyes straying to where the young girl still stood, her pretty blue eyes fixed on Lucan's own.

Morgaine giggled slightly. "But that's who I was talking about. That's Mary. She's a beautiful child, isn't she? Young, mild-mannered. Talented. She would make a hellion like you a good wife. Dagonet has already talked to her father and both men approve. The man's daughter is elevated to the status of a Knight's wife. And Dagonet's favored son gets a wife who suits him. It works for me. I don't have to do much work on this one. Not like I had to do with your Uncle Lance and Aunt Bergisa. My Gods, that relationship took years off my life."

Lucan chuckled. "But you won in the end."

"Of course I won! I always win! Ask Galahad or Gawain. They'll tell you I'm right."

Lucan nodded, walking slowly alongside Morgaine, his heart breaking at every halting step. It hurt him to see her so frail. She had always been so strong, the person he aspired to be in attitude and fortitude. "Are you all right, Aunt? You never talk about the hippodrome."

"Yes, I do. I talk about it with Arthur and my lovers. They are the only ones who need to know. I've healed, Lucan. I no longer feel like I have to take a dozen baths a day to get clean. My children continue to love me. And neither of my men look at me any differently than they used to. There is nothing else to talk of. Come on. Let's go talk to Arthur about the betrothal. I'll give you until she's 17. I was only 14 when I fell in love with your Uncles Galahad and Gawain. She'll be all right. And so will you."

Galahad and Gawain were standing on the path ahead of them, watching Morgaine with a fond smile. As she approached, Gawain teased, "Come now, Lady, can you cease your plotting for ten minutes?"

Morgaine laughed full voice, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love. "No. You wouldn't love me the same if I wasn't plotting someone's marriage. At least I'm not plotting yours."

"You can't plot ours, Nazneen. We're already taken."

Morgaine, her head tilting back as Galahad took her gently in his arms, spoke teasingly, "Oh really? What is she like, this woman that has taken your hearts?"

Gawain created a thick rope out of her hair, twining it about his fingers. "She's beautiful, inside and out."

Galahad nodded, his fingers stroking gentle circles over her hips. "Eyes like midnight and hair like the feathers of a raven. She's short, barely to my collarbone; the shortest woman in the palace, as a matter of fact."

"Young, beautiful, kind, compassionate, wise. She's a mother to four beautiful children; who adore every second they spend with her and every smile they receive from her and every laugh their fathers can bring from her. She has a foster daughter, who loves and adores her with everything her tiny heart can offer. She's the axis upon which our world revolves," Gawain whispered, his forehead pressing lightly to her temple, his voice husky with deep emotion. "I love you, Lady."

Morgaine, in tears at her husband's sweet speech, murmured in return, "I love you, Gawain." Looking up into ivy eyes, she repeated, "I love you, Sarmatian."

Galahad nodded, pushing a strand of sable hair behind one ear. "I love you, Nazneen."

Lucan, sensing that this was a private moment, slipped away from them. As he moved up the path, he wondered what it would be like to love a woman like his uncles loved their woman. Glancing back at Mary, he decided that he just might find out.


	73. Chapter 73

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, we don't own it. **

Evenstar-mor2004: Yep, Lucan's all grown up and in love. Isn't it sweet? And no, her leg will always be that way.

lilstrummrgrl527: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. I'm glad you laughed at Lancelot and Bergisa, and I'm glad you got wide eyed at Galahad/Gawain/Morgaine and I'm glad you liked the part about Lucan. I still want pictures of the dolls, okay? And don't worry about it too much. There's still much to happen in this story. I hope you like this chapter.

tHe vOiCe WiThiN: I'm glad you like the POTO. And yeah, I love the legend. I own like all of the versions. And I'm glad you like that I've woven it into the story. And yeah, Ryan and Takara. Morgaine is sooooo plotting. Trust me. And yea, Lancelot/Bergisa are a funny pair. They make me laugh, and I'm the one who writes them. And I'm glad you liked Galahad and Gawain's opinion of their wife. I wanted everyone to see how much they truly love her.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I hope you like.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you like him. And yes, Accolon is a mini-Lancelot. Lancelot is his mentor. And I'm glad you like the fact that my Arthur isn't so uptight. He's older and knows the price of mortality. And I used your name because you've been reviewing since almost the beginning. And you deserve to have your name in here. I hope you don't mind.

op: I love the word Pretty! It's one of my alltime favorites. I'm glad you liked it. And I didn't make you wait long.

Sorceress Misha: Yeah, she's pretty cool. When I write her, I'm thinking of the Matchmaker song from the Fiddler on the Roof. I love it. And I can't wait for you to learn what she has in store for Accolon. He's going to be a headache for her. Trust me.

Babak, HGandRHForever, and everyone I missed: I hope I didn't lose you! Please update, soon!

AN: Just for everyone's future knowledge, as of now, this story is a crossover with the older television show, ROAR, starring Heath Ledger. It's been off the air for awhile, but Chris and I came up the idea to use them for the next plot twist. I hope you all don't mind. Please continue to read and tell me what you think.

And so without further quibbling from me…..

Chapter Seventy-Three

Lucan and Accolon were Knighted nearly three years later, on the days that they each turned 19. Lucan, as the older by four days, was Knighted first. And on the day following, he was married to a 17-year-old Mary, who blushed and giggled whenever one of the Knights teased her during her reception. The two had been courting since their betrothal and were crazy about each other. Accolon was Knighted on the day after his birthday.

And it was almost too soon that their first task as Knights came to Camelot. Morgaine was seated on a bench in the sparring area, tending to her mending as her three youngest children, plus Bergisa and Lancelot's twins and Takara, played around her and her men sparred in the yard. The squires, her own son among them, were watching the two men fight, awed and wide-eyed. Takara chattered a mile a minute about Jols' latest act of nobility in the eyes of his daughter, while Freya and Cyra were sitting on the bench beside her, tenderly brushing the hair on dolls that their fathers had made for them as Cyrus polished the dulled dagger Lancelot had given him. Sanora and Ryan were playing with wooden practice swords, Sanora herself delighting in getting filthy with the boys.

Gareth and Aggravaine, Gawain's elder brothers, had sent their sons to Britain for Arthur to train as Knights. They assumed that if they sent their children out of Sarmatia, the boys would not suffer the same fate that their fathers had. Britain was out of Roman hands and it was a place where Sarmatian boys would be safe. The youngest of the cousins -Ben- was five and had been made Arthur's page, running messages to and fro about the palace. He was too young to undergo the training required of the Knights and the women were determined to protect him for as long as they could.

Ben came careening around the corner, the shoulder of his tunic hanging down his arm. He skidded to a halt in front of his aunt, heaving air into his five-year-old lungs. "Aunt!" he cried, causing Morgaine to drop her mending and watch her nephew in concern.

"Benjamin, what's wrong?"

"The King requests that you and your Lords attend him at Court. He is waiting for you in his Throne Room."

Her eyes narrowed at the phrasing of the message. She had a feeling that Arthur had made the boy memorize his speech word for word. Something was happening; Arthur never referred to her husbands as "her Lords". It worried her. Morgaine grabbed her cane where it rested next to her, pushing herself to a standing position slowly. "Did he say why?"

"No, my lady, only that it was urgent."

"Thank you, Ben. Tell my brother we'll be there as soon as they can clean up."

Ben nodded and starting running at full-tilt back toward the main hall of Camelot. Morgaine sighed deeply and looked toward the yard. "Sarmatian! Gawain!"

Their blades met with one last great _clang!_ before they turned to face their wife. "What's wrong, Nazneen?" Galahad called back, smiling at the boys as they cheered for the two Knights.

"Arthur requests our presence in the throne room. You and the children should wash up. Archie should be there; he is the Heir."

Archie groaned, moving to sneak away. Before he took even three steps, Gawain's hand landed heavily onto his shoulder. "Nice try, kid. Let's go."

Archie grumbled under his breath as his fathers followed his mother and siblings toward their apartments. Nearly half an hour later, the tiny family entered the throne room. Cyra and Cyrus giggled and raced to sit upon their father's knees, both vying for his whole attention. Lancelot chuckled at their youth, as Bergisa scolded the three of them quietly to be silent.

The Dark Child and her daughters were dressed in simple Briton linen, with the coronet of Princess and Heir across Morgaine's and Archie's brows, respectively. The only thing that marred the majestic sight was Morgaine leaning heavily on her cane, her other hand looped through Galahad's elbow.

Gawain held Freya on his hip, the emerald of her short dress trailing down his thigh. Sanora held his hand, her sapphire dress the perfect foil for her navy eyes. The two Knights and their sons each wore clean black trousers and white linen shirts, though Galahad and Gawain wore the gauntlets over their wrists that symbolized their Knighted status.

A man, unknown to any of the three adults, was standing before Arthur's throne. His head was shaved and he wore a green leather tunic and earthy brown leather pants. His mustache curled around his mouth and he looked to be at least ten years older than Arthur himself. An iron blade hung at his belt, and a dagger protruded from his boot top. Arthur was watching him steadily, though none talked. Morgaine called out, "I'm here, Brother. What was so urgent?"

Arthur stood, as did the rest of the Knights who were already seated in their chairs. Their women were perched next to them, each dressed in their court finery. Morgaine cocked an eyebrow. Something serious had happened and Arthur was bringing out the big guns. Though whether to intimidate or to impress was yet to be seen. Guinevere stood from her bench, gesturing to the empty chair on the dais below them. "Come Sister, take your seat. There is news from the West."

Morgaine's eyes narrowed, before she allowed Galahad to lead her to her chair. He waited until she was settled, at which time she waved him away. Fourteen years old and solemn, Archie took his place at her side, one hand resting on the curved arm of her chair. Seven year old Ryan took his place, standing at the side of Gawain's chair, while ten year old Sanora stood on the opposite side, her hands folding demurely over the left side ornament on the back of the chair. Five year old Freya was cuddled against her own father's chest, her thumb in her mouth and her eyes watching the man gravely.

Morgaine's eyes looked up and down the man in front of her. "And you are?"

The man bowed, one hand pressed to his heart. "My name is Fergus, my Lady." The man's accent was uncommon in Britain and obviously from those settled on Eire to the West.

"Your Highness," Galahad corrected, his ivy eyes steely. Gawain nodded once, a cold smile on his face, "I am the only one who calls her, 'Lady' and you would do well to remember that."

Morgaine smiled indulgently, shushing them gently, "Calm yourselves husbands. He didn't know any better. I am the Princess Morgaine, those two are my husbands, Galahad and Gawain. And this is my son, Archie."

Archie gave the man a shallow, but very courtly and proper bow. Morgaine's lips curved in approval of the move before she returned her attention to the man. "Welcome to Camelot, Fergus. To what do we owe the honor?"

"My prince, Connor mac Derek, sent me. The legend of Arthur and his Knights has extended even across the sea to Eire."

Arthur nodded once, his fingers squeezing Guinevere's tenderly as she placed a concerned hand on her husband's arm. "Why is it that your prince has sent you?"

"Not all of the Isles are as fortunate as Britannia. Our people still fight the Romans. Connor requests that King Arthur and his Knights agree to an alliance, one which might unite Eire and rid the land of the Romans."

Arthur looked thoughtful. Glancing at his sister, he nodded in response to the slight shake of her head. Standing he spoke to the man, "My advisor recommends that I allow time to ponder the idea. However, in the meantime, you will be treated as a guest in our home. Morgaine, if you wouldn't mind."

Morgaine nodded, curtsying awkwardly to her brother. "Yes, my King. Come, Fergus, and we will find you a place to stay."

Archie extended his arm for his mother, helping her up from her chair. Limping toward Galahad, she lifted the five year old form of her youngest into her arms. She exchanged a quick kiss and whispered words with the Youngest, before Gawain approached as well. They also exchanged their goodbyes, before Morgaine led Fergus from the room. The Knights kissed their wives goodnight, and disappeared through a side door into the Chamber of the Round Table. Lucan and Accolon took their seats next to each other, Lucan to Dagonet's right and Bors to his left, the four across the table from Galahad, Morgaine and Gawain's chairs. Arthur took his seat between the two, across from Tristan and Jols, with Lancelot to his right. "So, what do you all think?"

Galahad smirked, "An opportunity to kick some Roman butt? I'm not sure I'd care."

Gawain nodded in agreement. "You have to admit, Arthur. For those of us who suffered under Roman rule, the idea has merit. And I have been wanting retribution for the nightmares the Romans gave our Lady."

Arthur nodded, questioning, "How are her nightmares?"

"She rarely has them anymore. After Freya's birth, they rarely plagued her further. She has one occasionally, but not as often as she used to."

Arthur nodded, just as Morgaine entered the room. The men all stood, with Lucan, as the closest to the door, moving to assist her to her chair. She sat and watched as the men around her took their seats as well. "Well, have I missed anything?" she questioned, as a servant brought her a goblet of herb-drugged wine to numb the agony of her leg.

"No, Sister. How are you feeling?"

"If you are thinking to leave me behind, should you choose to go, you have another thing coming."

Arthur smiled. "No, Rhiannon. I would not dream of it. What is your opinion? You have an uncanny knack at reading people. How did you read him?"

"He came across as sincere. I have heard of Connor. He is a clan prince, who's entire family was murdered. He was hidden and so left alive. He has yet to be crowned king, fighting for his life and the reputation of his father."

Arthur nodded, not questioning his sister's intelligence. She had spies everywhere. It was why she was such a useful advisor to him. "And the wives?"

"You would find them useful, I believe. And I doubt, as mothers, they would leave their children. Which means you, Brother, will have an entourage."

Lancelot quipped teasingly, "Just like a real king."

Arthur glared at his best friend, daring him to say that again. "So, at breakfast, we will give the emissary our answer, then?"

"I would suggest a vote. All in favor?"

All hands shot up, even Arthur's. Morgaine nodded once, a small smile curving her lips. "Motion carried. I will make the arrangements to leave and we shall be on our way to Eire before the end of the week. Sarmatian? Gawain? Attend me?"

The two Knights stood, assisting Morgaine from her chair. The two bowed to Arthur, Morgaine dropping a hasty curtsy, before the three disappeared from the room. Arthur looked around the table. "Find your beds. Tomorrow will be spent in preparation. And will someone go to the dormitories tomorrow morning and send me our squires?"

"What about Merlin?"

"I have no doubt that Morgaine will send Galahad for Merlin in the morning. He will have to be in charge while we are gone."

The Knights nodded, each standing and bowing as they left the room. Finally Arthur and Lancelot were alone. "Do you think Bergisa will forgive me for this?"

"Yes, the Knights aren't the only ones who want revenge on the Romans. Bergisa has been dying for a little payback on Morgaine's behalf. Don't worry, Arthur. We'll follow you and our wives will follow us. I'll see you in the morning. Go to your wife. Let her comfort you."

Arthur nodded, sipping on what remained of his ale as Lancelot drained his goblet and walked from the room with a mocking bow. Arthur smirked, throwing a stylus at him. Lancelot easily dodged and Arthur could hear his laughter chasing him all the way down the hallway. Looking up at the ceiling, Arthur murmured a soft prayer, "Merciful Father, they have given so much. Please protect them from all that seeks to harm them. And protect my sister, who is my mainstay and foundation. May she continue to heal from the offenses enacted upon her."


	74. Chapter 74

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Hey, sorry it's been so long. I'm going to make it up to you by posting like four chapters, okay? I hope you like them. And now for kindly words from my kindly reviewers.

lilstrummrgrl527: Don't worry, I can wait on the pictures. I'm glad you liked the chapter. I hope you will like this one as well.

Babak: I will always forgive you. I hope you like this upcoming chapter. I'm sorry about the short kindly words, I'm trying to rush through them and update all of my stories before two. Love me anyway?

tHe vOiCe WiThiN: I'm glad you liked the chapter. And yes, Eire is Ireland.

Evenstar-mor2004: Accolon will be married off soon. I promise. Are you volunterring? Kidding, Michelle.

ZELINIA: And yes, I know Roar. I love Roar. However, some things will be different from the movie. Such as the fact that Longenus can't die. I'm sorry, I don't want this story to get mystical. But that's about it. Oh, and I really like the pairing of Molly and Connor, so Catlin is out in the cold. Sorry if you liked her.

the green lama: Yes, Eire is Ireland. That's the Roman term for the island. I'm glad you liked it. Don't worry about it. I'm going out of town to London and Paris for two weeks. I hope you all forgive me. I'm glad you liked that I wrote Lucan in. He's going to be important coming up soon, so is Mary.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Don't worry about Fergus. He's a good guy.

TonyBA: I love you. But you're still a DORK!

Sorceress Misha: methinks you're right. The next chapter will go into some specifics about the other show. I hope you like where I'm going with this.

Chris: You're still my muse! Everyone say hi to Chris!

Chapter Seventy-Four

The next morning, Morgaine limped into the breakfast hall, her children on her heels. The men moved to stand, but she waved them back. "Honestly. I'm fine. Be seated."

After she was seated between her husbands, a steward showed Fergus into the room. Morgaine smiled at him. "I trust you slept well?"

He nodded, with a short bow in her direction, "Thank you, your highness. I did so."

She nodded with a smile, gesturing at the empty seat across the table from her. "Come, sit and eat. Vanora has outdone herself again."

Vanora grinned at the girl she viewed as her daughter. "Bless you Child."

Morgaine smiled back, before gesturing at each person in turn. "I don't believe you were introduced to everyone last night. You know Arthur, our King, and his Queen, Guinevere, as well as their daughters, the Crown Princesses, Viviane, Igraine and Morgause. I am the Princess Morgaine; my husbands, Sirs Galahad and Gawain; my children, Prince Archie, Princess Sanora, Prince Ryan and Princess Freya; my brother, Sir Lancelot, his wife, Lady Bergisa and their twins, Lady Cyra and Lord Cyrus; Sir Dagonet and his wife Lady Michelle; Dagonet's son, Sir Lucan and Lucan's new wife, Lady Mary; Michelle's children, Sir Accolon, the Ladies Denae and Maria; as well as their mutual children, Lord Liam, Lady Marianne, and the baby, little Lady Katharine; Sir Bors, Lady Vanora and their children, Gilly and the rest of whom have no names; Sir Tristan, Lady Isolde, the twin lords, Reagan and Riley, and their youngest, Lady Desiree; and Sir Jols and his daughter, the Little Lady, Takara. Jols' wife, Lady Amara died in childbed nearly three years ago. Takara's caretaker is the Lady Hestia. She is Lancelot's sister. "

Fergus nodded, bowing slightly to each lady, and shaking the hand of each Knight. "I am sorry for your loss, Sir Jols. I have a daughter of me own, a druid priestess, Molly. She's the light in me eyes, she is."

Jols smiled. "Every daughter is the light in their father's eyes. Isn't that right, Ladies?"

All the little girls around the table giggled, laughing happily as their fathers snuggled them close and pressed kisses to the apples of their cheeks. Morgaine smiled. "In this court, our children are openly spoiled. And very loved. So, you'll forgive us, I hope, if we are unlike the court you come from."

"Connor has no court. He's too busy trying to stay alive."

Morgaine nodded. "I understand. Last night, my brother and his Knights gathered in Council. And we have decided, unanimously, that we will assist the Princeling Connor in not only ridding the island of the Romans, but claiming Connor's throne for the rightful Native Prince."

Fergus bowed low to the Sarmatian Princess. "Thank you, Your Highness. We will not forget this."

Morgaine smirked, "No, I imagine you won't."

Gawain laughed, before warning Fergus, "Unless you would like your daughter married off, Fergus, I would suggest that you hide her from Morgaine's view. Most of the matches you see at this table, were arranged by my wife."

Galahad laughed in agreement, picking up where Gawain left off, "She is a notorious matchmaker and is getting bored with the fare in Britain. Eire would be a welcome place to begin making marriages."

Arthur chuckled, adding slyly, "Maybe she could find a wife for your Princeling."

Fergus chuckled. "Good luck with that Princess. He is stubborn in matters of the heart."

The twenty-eight year old princess couldn't resist the easy jab at her eldest brother and snorted, before remarking idly, "So was Lance."

Lancelot blushed as his wife started to tease him mercilessly. Cyra and Cyrus, the five year old twins, giggled as their father kissed their mother to shut her up. Morgaine rolled her eyes. "The plans have been made. We leave at the end of the week."

Arthur nodded, agreeing to his sister's plan. "Agreed, Rhiannon. Fergus, if you wish, you may send a messenger to your prince. I would hate to arrive and suddenly end up dead."

Fergus bowed slightly. "I shall send my hawk, Your Majesty. Thank you for the suggestion."

Arthur nodded, waving at him absently. "Don't bow to me. These idiots only bow when they're mocking me."

Morgaine rolled her eyes. "You're a king, Arthur, we have to bow. We just know how much you hate it."

Arthur glared at his sister and then threw up his hands. "You'll also find that the women are just as spoiled as their children."

The women squawked in outrage as Arthur continued, raising his voice to override them, "They can get their way just by pouting about something."

Morgaine looked at Guinevere. "You and I are going to have to do something about his arrogance."

"Restrict him from Lancelot?"

"I'm afraid whatever influence Lancelot has been, he's already left his mark. We'll have to come up with something else," the Dark Child remarked dryly, her eyes rolling in frustration.

Guinevere chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I concur, Sister. Come, we must plot our revenge."

Morgaine stood slowly, both women dropping quick curtsies to their king and leaving the room, Guinevere's usually long and sure strides shortened to accommodate the younger woman's unsteady gait. Fergus looked at Arthur. "Why does the lass walk like she does? Is she lame?"

"She was injured by a Roman commander, several years ago. The wound has healed, but there is irreparable damage. She'll never be without a limp, not for the rest of her life," Galahad replied, answering in Arthur's place.

Gawain's jaw hardened. "It is time to bring vengeance down upon the Romans for harming even a strand of hair on her head and treating her as their whore."

Fergus cocked an eyebrow and went to inquire further, but Isolde's hand on his arm forestalled him. "Do not ask. It is not a topic for conversation. And it makes her husbands very angry to discuss it. The main perpetrators are dead, executed at my own husband's hand. The secondary ones are inconsequential, in Sarmatia, branded as they deserved. And Gaheris, Gawain's youngest brother, is on a quest, seeking redemption. Redemption that all here knows will never be granted, except in the form of a quick and merciful death."

Fergus nodded and subsided, his eyes troubled but curious. Isolde smiled quietly, before returning her attention to her twin sons, who were throwing rolls at one another. Desiree was seated on her father's lap, eating demurely, her eyes filled with dainty disgust for the behavior of her brothers.

As breakfast continued, Fergus watched the court interact with each other. The men were bound by easy camaraderie, though if something threatened what they treasured, he had no doubt that these easy-going men could become a brutal and efficient killing machine.


	75. Chapter 75

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Okay, here's two of four!

Chapter Seventy-Five

Meanwhile in Eire, Connor and his men were fighting for their very lives. "Damn Fergus for leaving!" Connor shouted as he parried a blow destined to take off his head.

Molly shouted back, ducking under a Roman blade, "It was your idea!"

"I'm going to kill him when he gets back."

"What if he has good news?"

"That's **if** he has good news," Catlin grunted, parrying a blow with her blade and stabbing her knife into the man's gut.

Connor whistled shrilly, sounding the retreat of the tiny band of eight or ten Celts. The soldiers scattered to the winds, meeting back up at the caves of Sanctuary nearly twenty minutes later, each coming from a different route. There were only four people that Connor trusted with his life; his champion Fergus, Fergus' daughter Molly, his best archer Catlin, and the Druid priest-in-training, Tully. Three of these four followed him into his chamber now. Molly took her usual seat on the cot, as Catlin sat cross-legged on the floor and Tully leaned into the cushions of the armchair. Connor paced back and forth across the floor, looking agitated. "Connor, what's wrong?"

"I never should have sent Fergus. I should have sent someone I could spare. I need the old man with me," he muttered, his hands pushing back through the curly mass of his hair.

Molly glared playfully at the blond haired Native Prince. Fergus was her father and she loved him dearly. "My father would knock you up the head to hear you call him an old man," she teased, her eyes sparkling with playfulness.

Connor smiled at her, though the tiny curvature of his lips never made it to his eyes. Molly stood and came to his side, her hand reaching up to touch his arm tenderly. "It's all right, Connor. My da will be back in no time. And he'll have brought you an ally and an army with which to fight the Romans. But you must be patient."

Connor nodded once, his eyes focused inward. Glancing at her fellow lieutenants, she received nods from each. Standing, the other two left the room with quiet good nights. Molly took each of Connor's arms in her hands, shaking him slightly. "I want you to listen to me, Connor. Someday you will wake up and be king of this island. I know it. But you must be patient and believe that in the end, everything will work out."

Connor smiled at her, his eyes glowing with an indefinable emotion, and nodded at her. Cupping her cheeks gently between his hands, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Molly. I needed to hear that."

Molly smiled up at him, the two exchanging a quick, platonic kiss, before Molly moved to leave Connor's chamber. Standing at the door, she turned to look back at him. "Get some sleep, Connor. Everything will look better in the morning. And maybe, just maybe, Da will be on his way home and we can put this war behind us."

With those parting words, Molly left the room and closed the curtain-door behind her. Connor watched the door for a moment before turning toward the hole in the rock wall that provided his only window. One hand drifted toward his mouth and the very tips of his fingers rested softly on the place where Molly had kissed him.

Heaving a great sigh, he allowed his mind to turn to the events of the last years. His entire family had been murdered by a rival clan, the night of his elder brother's marriage. His mam, da, brothers and sister-in-law, all wiped out in the course of hours. The only reason he was still alive was that someone had shoved him into a lockable closet and he had railed against the door, seeking some escape as his family died.

Only days later, the woman who had held his heart since childhood, Claire, was killed by her father, when she stepped in front of the blade that had been meant for him. And now, some year and a half later, he was still fighting for his life. There was little he knew for certain about the enemy. He knew the Roman threat was most often personified in the form of the Queen of Ireland, Diana, who had been placed in charge by Rome. And her advisor, Longenus, was reputed to be the Roman centurion who killed his own god, cursed to live forever. The names of their commander, their centurions, and the numbers in their army were unknown to him.

Sometimes he wished he could return to being the second son of King Derek, never meant for any responsibility and destined to run free as he would. But then he was reminded of his mam, and her screams as they killed her and he felt ashamed that he could so easily forsake his new destiny. It was his **duty** to avenge his murdered family.

The sound of Molly's light laughter drifted from the first floor and Connor reveled in the sound. There was so rarely something to laugh about. The pads of his fingers smoothed over his mouth, continuing to taste her on his tongue, to feel the imprint of her lips on his own. Heaving a great sigh, he began to ready for bed. Stripping off his tunic, he hung it up carefully on the peg by the door. He sat down heavily on the bed and tugged off his boots wearily. His eyes were starting to drag as he felt sleep start to creep up on him.

Crawling beneath the covers, he rolled onto his belly and got comfortable. Just before he slipped away from reality, he wondered absently when Molly would be coming to bed.

Nearly an hour later, Molly slipped into the bedchamber of her lover and prince. She smiled to see him so relaxed, the furrows in his brow smoothed by sleep. She started to strip from her clothing, her flesh bubbling in gooseflesh as the cool air of the room wafted over her naked skin. Scurrying to the bed, she scrambled under the covers and curved close to Connor's body. He was always like a furnace, his body seeming to radiate warmth regardless of what was happening.

Connor murmured sleepily, rolling toward her and pulling her into the concave of his body. She snuggled close, her nose buried in the lightly furred expanse of his chest. Closing her eyes, she recalled fondly the first time they'd met. She'd been among a group of other young people, led by a man named Doyle. Connor had been kind to her and had rescued her from the various scrapes she'd found herself in.

Months later, they'd been betrothed to one another by a group of Druids, who she was training with. She was to represent the land, and Connor was the only remaining Native Prince in Eire. Their wedding would have been a wedding between the Prince and the land. But in the end, the Druid-King, the Father, was killed and the marriage was never performed. And later, after she'd been trapped on an island the inhabitants of which wanted to use her as a test run for their traps, Connor -and her father- had rushed to her aid, refusing to leave her behind. She had never forgotten it.

And at nights, when the dark was cold and lonely, Molly was wont to slip into Connor's bed, seeking companionship and warmth. Connor would accept her presence with nothing more than a smile and hold her close through the night. Propping up onto her elbow now, she used her free hand to brush an unruly strand of hair from his eyes. Watching him sleep, she thought that maybe she loved him.

Leaning down, she kissed his cheeks before amending that thought. No, she didn't think she loved him. She knew she loved him. Now if only he would love her back.


	76. Chapter 76

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Okay, here's three of four!

Chapter Seventy-Six

At the end of the week, Arthur stood alone at the prow of the boat. Catching sight of him, Lancelot joined him. "What's wrong, My King?" Lancelot asked, deliberately mocking the older man.

"Lance, don't start."

Based on the tone of Arthur's voice, Lancelot immediately knew that Arthur was wrestling with his conscience. "All right, Arthur, what's wrong?"

"I don't usually talk to you about what's wrong."

"Well, Morgaine is unavailable. So talk."

"Do you think I can give Eire the same kind of political system that I use?"

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "How the hell do I know? What kind of political system is it that you use?"

"It's Roman. So what do you think? You think I can do it?"

Lancelot made a face. "You can give them a Roman political system, if you can break a chicken's thumb. But our political system isn't Roman."

Arthur's eyes scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Rome didn't believe that all men are free and equal. You do. You govern Britain as though all men are free and equal."

"What other government should I compare mine with? Rome is the first to bring order to the world."

"So don't bring order to Eire. Bring unity to Eire. Bring Britain's policies to Eire, not Rome's. And I don't understand why it is that you can't be satisfied with Britain. You have to go and get involved with the rest of the world."

"My religion demands that I spread civilization and order through the world."

Lancelot rolled his eyes and protested, "Your religion also insists on the enslavement of all non-Christians and the death to all pagans."

"Not my religion!" Arthur roared, infuriated. "Mine compels me to save mankind from darkness."

"Which makes your religion not the religion of the Romans."

"I am Christian, just as they are."

"But you're a compassionate Christian. Not a bloodthirsty one. And your lessons from your father and Pelagius influenced your religion, Arthur."

"My father and Pelagius taught me that all men are equal."

"And that's my point."

Arthur looked at him confused. "You have a point? It's a miracle."

Lancelot threw up his hands in frustration. "How does Morgaine stand to talk to you? You don't listen."

"Yes I do."

"No, you don't. If you listened, you'd know that I'm right."

"Just because you start a fight, does not mean that you're right. Haven't you learned anything from fighting with Bergisa?"

"Leave my wife out of this. She has nothing to do with this."

Arthur rolled his eyes and stormed away, leaving Lancelot standing alone at the prow. He found his sister sitting alone in her cabin, mending. Morgaine looked up and immediately knew something was wrong. "What bothers you, Brother?"

"Do I worship my God or my father, Morgaine?"

Morgaine's eyebrow arched toward her hairline as she allowed her mending to fall to her lap. "I don't understand, Arthur. What do you mean?"

"Do I follow my religion? Or do I follow my father's teachings?"

"What would be wrong with following your father's teachings? You said he was a good man." Morgaine reminded him, patting the bed beside her.

Arthur sighed and sunk onto the bed next to her, his head resting in her lap and her fingers threading gently through his raven-black hair. "Am I a Roman, Morgaine?"

"I don't know. That's your own opinion. Are you a Roman? Are you a Briton? Are you Christian? Or, are you just Arthur? My brother who always does the right thing, because he follows his heart?"

"Lancelot didn't seem to think so."

Morgaine smiled, knowing that her brothers had probably come close to blows for the millionth time in her time of knowing them. "What happened?"

"I got into a fight with Lance."

"You're always in a fight with Lance. About what?"

"About whether or not I am following my religion."

"Start at the beginning and tell me everything."

Arthur recounted the argument for his sister, waiting for her judgment. Morgaine chuckled lightly when he was done. "And you come running to me? Arthur, you're not Roman in the Roman sense. Just like, you're not Christian in the Roman sense. You're Roman because your father was Roman. And you're Christian because you were raised to be Christian. But your father and Pelagius' teachings influenced how you live your religion. Lancelot is right. But don't tell him I told you that, he'll never let me live it down. Don't worry about what anyone tells you. Just follow your heart." She pressed her forehead to his, murmuring, "It's what you're good at."

"Am I wrong in wanting to bring order to the world?"

"That's something only you can decide, Arthur. What does your heart tell you?"

"That it would be good but that I can't do it."

"Then that's probably how it is. I respect your desire for everyone to be free and equal. But Arthur, that's not the way the world works. The world will never conform to that idea. And you must accept that."

"Can I do it in Eire?"

"I suppose. But remember, Eire is a island rife with fighting and war, even without the Romans making trouble. Just follow your heart, and the rest will fall into place. Now, go find Lance before he starts gloating that he bested you in an argument."

Arthur nodded, standing and kissing his sister's forehead, before running off to find Lancelot. The two best friends talked long into the night about the fears they each carried for this plan.


	77. Chapter 77

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Okay, here's four of four! Enjoy!

Chapter Seventy-Seven

The boat docked later that evening and the unloading was performed silently by the men. The women stayed together, making little sound to avoid unwanted detection from the Roman sentries posted throughout Eire. The children played their silent games, clustered about their Mothers and Aunts. Soon, Tristan came over with his and Isolde's horses. Speaking quietly, the two mounted up and rode off. Galahad and Gawain detached from the rest of the men and approached. "Are you ladies all right?" Galahad murmured, lifting tiny Freya into his arms.

Morgaine nodded once. "Yes, Sarmatian, we're fine. What's going on?"

"Tristan and Isolde have gone to find a campsite for the night. We'll set out with Fergus to find Connor's Sanctuary in the morning."

Gawain gauged the pain levels in Morgaine's eyes and drew her close, kissing her temple gently. "Are you all right, Lady?"

"I'm fine, Gawain. I'm just tired. The sooner we can all rest, I think the happier we all will be."

Gawain nodded against her temple, tiny Sanora wrapped around his leg. "We just have to wait for Tristan to get back. I promise. We'll be making camp before you know it."

The two scouts arrived moments later and the group followed them to a clearing in the woods. The women prepared camp and tended the children as the men tethered the horses and went hunting for dinner. After supper, the women gathered their children close, tucking them into their makeshift beds, as their husbands crouched beside them, eyes open for anyone or anything that could pose a threat to the ones that they loved.

Later that night, the individual units were scattered around the clearing, fathers and husbands keeping careful watch over wives and children. Sometime after midnight, Galahad jerked from sleep, his keen green eyes scanning through the gloom of the moonlit night. Morgaine, startled awake by his sharp movement, sat up, touching her husband's knee gently. "Sarmatian? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Galahad put his fingers to her lips, silencing her. She reached back and shook Gawain's shoulder, waking him as well. The tense silence alerted Gawain to the fact that something was wrong. Galahad picked up a small stone and pitched it at Arthur. It connected and Arthur sat up onto his elbow, his green eyes glinting even in the darkness. Galahad touched his blade, Arthur nodding in return to the unspoken concern.

There was another rustle in the brush and this time every Knight was out of his bed, crouched low to the ground for safety and blade in hand. Every eye scanned the underbrush as mothers drew their children close to their hearts. Another rustle drew Arthur's eyes to his direct right.

Sheathing his sword, Gawain snatched his dagger from the ground by his head and grabbed his axe as well, as Galahad strung his bow and nocked an arrow against the string, his bow up and trained loosely at the sound. Morgaine reached out and woke her children, pulling them close to her. Freya buried her head in her mother's chest, her eyes wide and frightened, though she was silent in her alarm.

Galahad's keen ears heard it first. The sharp _twang!_ as an arrow was released from a bow. His own bow shifted focus in a second, his arrow meeting the first head-on. The two collided, the iron head of Galahad's shredding the other. Galahad stood, his bow already cocked and his eyes having picked out the original archer. "Come out! I can see you and I won't hesitate to unload this bow into your eye socket!"

Morgaine looked up at her husband. "Husband, don't kill the natives." Calling back over her shoulder, she shouted at the Irishman, "Fergus! Your party has arrived!"

Fergus stood fluidly, calling out, "Connor! It's Fergus, lad!"

A young man, no more than twenty, stepped from the shadows. His blond hair shone in the dim light, and his chocolate eyes watched his second-in-command steadily. "Fergus? What are you doing here?"

"I have returned with your allies, King Arthur and his Knights."

Morgaine staggered to her feet and rested her hand gently on Galahad's arm, forcing him to lower the bow. The bow remained cocked, though the arrowhead was now pointed at the ground. Isolde and Guinevere each held their blades, Tristan having followed Galahad's example and grabbed his bow first. Morgaine turned to the young man, "You must be the Princeling, Connor. I am the Princess Morgaine. That man there is my brother, King Arthur. The rest are Knights, wives and children. We mean no ill will."

Arthur couldn't hold in a smirk at his sister's gentle calm. She was his advisor and ambassador for a reason, and just then he remembered what that reason was. Connor glanced at the man, before his eyes trailed over the trappings on the horses. "You come, dressed as Romans and carrying Roman trappings, and you wonder why you are shot at?"

Morgaine looked to the sky, knowing that there was going to be some general ill will at that comment. Lancelot was the first to voice his displeasure with the assumption, "Most of us are Sarmatian and Briton. Not Roman."

Morgaine rolled her eyes. "And what do you call Arthur? Roman, hello!"

A blond warrior-woman, one of the Princeling's close friends and trusted lieutenants, Catlin, drew back her bow, trying to silence the woman. Galahad's bow was up and his arrow slicing through her bowstring before she'd even taken the time to sight. Her eyes flashed to where he stood and was surprised to see that his bow was once again loaded already. His voice was as cold as the night about them as he warned her quietly, "Don't even think of shooting at my wife. You'll be dead before you can manage it."

Connor held up his hands in a placating gesture, unnerved at the coldness in the eyes of all the men before him. "We're all friends here. We'll lower our weaponry, if you do the same."

Galahad glanced at Morgaine who nodded once. His bow came down and the tension on the arrow relaxed. Gawain sheathed his dagger and slammed his axe into the loop at his belt. After the Knights displayed their willingness to cooperate, Connor sheathed his own blade. His men followed his example, though Catlin and Galahad glared at each other with a deep seated loathing. They could already tell that they were not going to get along at all.

An hour later, Connor and Arthur had moved past pleasantries and were discussing the actual state of their individual islands. Connor questioned curiously, "So, who fights you on your island?"

Arthur chuckled. "Well, the Woads no longer want to kill us. The Romans are gone. Now, it's just us against the Saxons."

Catlin, from her place among Connor's lieutenants snorted, "Eh, boring."

Morgaine glared at the woman, her youngest daughter in her lap. "Says you. The women you see before you are married to those men that fight the Saxons. There's nothing boring about our island. More like nerve-wracking. Terrifying. Petrifying. Soul-shaking. So on and so forth."

Arthur smiled at his sister, noticing the women were taking Morgaine's side in this particular discussion. "So, Connor, who are you facing on your island?"

A pretty young woman, the Druid priestess Molly, spoke up dryly, "Everyone."

Molly's chocolate eyes caught Connor's and the two smiled at each other lightly. Morgaine's eyes narrowed, her lips curving in a gentle smile. Galahad and Gawain, as well as Arthur, Bergisa, Lancelot and Tristan, all noticed the smile. They ducked their heads, hiding their grins. Morgaine had found another oblivious couple to force to the wedding altar. Turning back to his allies, Connor's brow furrowed in confusion at the cat-in-the-cream look on the Princess' features. "Well, the Romans are still here. The Irish clans all hate each other. General rule: if it moves and you don't know its name…kill it."

Tristan gave an evil grin, remarking idly, "Sounds like my kind of place."

Arthur turned, scolding, "Tristan!"

The reclusive scout shrugged, remarking, "What! It is."

Isolde smiled indulgently up at her husband. "My love, stay your blade for the moment. First, we have to find out who we're supposed to kill. And then you can go homicidal on everyone."

Morgaine spoke next, questioning curiously, "So how do we have to dress to not get shot?"

Tully, the Druid priest-in-training, remarked idly, "Become a tree."

Morgaine cocked an eyebrow at the remark, before nodding once, "I see. Thanks for the advice."


	78. Chapter 78

AN: I'm BAACK! I just returned home from Europe, and am enthusiastic about writing you all. I hope you enjoy the chapter. And so now, kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

the green lama: Thank you for your reviews. You're right, the end of chapter 76 was a little lame, but I didn't want to spend a lot of time on resolving Arthur and Lancelot's issues, because the two friends are always having issues and talking it out is hardly going to solve the problem. And yes, Morgaine is calm and collected despite her surroundings at all times, because she knows that people around her are going to let their emotions run away with them. And the first thing that the Woads taught her is that excess of emotion on the battlefield can get you killed. So, she's thinking of this as a battlefield. And, yeah, I actually missed the latest attack on the tube by about five minutes. Five minutes late and an actual explosion and I wouldn't be finishing this story for you guys. So, thanks for anyone who happened to send a prayer my way.

Babak: Hello my lovely. I have missed you. I'm glad you think that the Knights and their Ladies do a good job of protecting their families. These people are people they have learned to love and they don't want anything to happen to them. And yes, Catlin and Galahad are going to provide some interesting and particularly amusing disagreements as the time goes by. And yes, Molly is in very safe, capable and manipulative hands. Morgaine will have no problem at all getting the two of them together. Or will she? And if Tristan was any cuter I'd have to marry him. I'm glad you liked Morgaine and Arthur's relationship. They're the only family that the two of them had for a long time, so they grew really close, and Morgaine has been his ally and stalwart advisor and defender. They're very protective of each other. And thank you, I hope you continue to like the plotline. And would you stop guessing my plottwists? We'll get into Hestia later. I promise.

Evenstar-mor2004: absolutely a Roar! Fan. I love that show I have all of the episodes on VHS. I love it so much. And it's right around the time of King Arthur. And if it's not, I can always rearrange the timetable. Artistic license, you know. And I think it'd be funny to watch them dress up like trees. If you want my opinion.

Tristan's mysterial lady: Welcome to the Party! I hope you like this story. If you want, I'll add an AN which puts each child with their parent. Just let me know in your review and I'll be more than happy to do so. I hope you continue to enjoy.

op: I know you still want more, and so here's more. This is the Neverending Story, or so it seems, but if you keep reading, I'll keep writing.

lilstrummrgrl527: Yep, Morgaine still calls Galahad "Sarmatian". It's her nickname for him, just like Galahad still calls her Nazneen and Gawain still calls her Lady. Um, I'll do that AN, with all the kids and their ages. I promise. And no, Tristan won't stay in Eire. You have my word. And yes, a religion talk…..kinda. And yes, please agree with Lance. He is right. And yes, Connor is a hottie. He's played by Heath Ledger in the show. And yes, lots of love for him and Molly, please. And yes, Mogaine has another mission. And Galahad and Gawain are going to take the opportunity to do some royal ass-kicking in Eire. And yes, Morgaine is only 28. Weird huh? She seems older. Everyone else is in their late thirties, early forties, however. And yes, I know you like this story.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I'm glad you like how easily Isolde can control her husband. She knows exactly what to say to him to make him think and to make me laugh.

ZELINIA: I know Britain didn't have an blacks, but they are Sarmatian. They were put down and looked down upon for who and where they came from. They wouldn't have done the same to another individual. It's not in their natures. And yes, Catlin's a bit mean now. But you'll see why I've written her that way soon. I promise. I like Catlin too, she won't always be this way. And no, she doesn't fear the Saxons. Yes, Arthur talking about politics and religion with Lancelot is pretty funny, huh? I never thought about it until just now. And yes, Morgaine is like their babysitter or something. It's pretty funny. Thank you about the compliment on Guinevere/Morgaine as well as Fergus' grammar. And Catlin will be angsting, though not about Connor or Molly. And yes, Molly's not allowed to fight. She's a Druid, that's against their ethics. Trust me, I researched it. She can advise though, and that's how she's valuable to Connor.

Miko Yamaguchi: Welcome to the Party! I'm glad you like it keep reading, Okay?

Sorceress Misha: I'm glad you liked the chapters. And I hope you like where I take this.

Wow, I've written a lot of Kindly words. I'm so glad you all liked it. Keep reading, and reviewing, okay?

Chapter Seventy-Eight

The next morning, the Knights and their Ladies packed up camp and followed the Celts to their Sanctuary. Connor was watching Arthur, who was riding between his wife and his sister, Morgause in the saddle in front of him. Morgaine was followed by Galahad and Gawain, her eldest daughter, Sanora on the horse to her left.

Fergus rode up and Connor inquired, "Tell me about the black haired one."

"There are many black-haired ones. Could you be more specific?"

"The one riding to Arthur's left."

"That's the Princess Morgaine. She is Arthur's younger sister. The two Knights behind her are her husbands. The children with them are hers. The blond girl is their oldest daughter Sanora, the young man with curly hair is her eldest Archie, the girl on the saddle in front of her is Freya and the other boy is Ryan."

"Her husbands?" Connor inquired, curious.

"Yes."

"Anything interesting about her?"

Fergus mused for a moment, before recalling an event that her husbands had teased her about good-naturedly one evening after dinner. "She blew up a lake, when she was 16."

"She blew up a lake?"

"Well, some of it. It was frozen." Fergus replied, trying to explain his statement.

Connor nibbled on his lower lip before amending his question to, "She blew up a frozen lake?"

"Yes."

"I suppose she consorts with leprechauns, as well?"

"Not that I've heard. Just Knights. Oh, and the odd Magician."

"How stupid do you think I am, Fergus?"

"Ask them. And tell me if they don't say the same. She blew up a lake!"

Connor glanced at his champion and then pushed his horse forward, clearing his throat to bring Morgaine's attention to him. "What can I help you with, Princeling?"

"When you were 16, was there any notable event, that might have had something to do with a lake?"

Morgaine nibbled on her lower lip, before replying sheepishly, "I blew one up. I didn't mean to."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at his sister, but didn't say anything. Morgaine caught the expression and muttered, "All right, so I meant to. So sue me. There were Saxons. You could have died!"

"I never asked you if you knew how that fireball worked."

Morgaine nibbled on her lower lip again, before replying, "Yes….Kind of."

"So you knew it wouldn't kill us."

"I hoped." Morgaine admitted.

"I forbid you from ever using one again."

"But Arthur…," she whined, sounding very much like Freya when the lass wasn't getting her way.

"I said no. Not until you can guarantee me that it won't kill us next time."

Morgaine muttered under her breath, "It didn't kill us the first time."

Galahad remarked from behind her, teasing his wife, "Or the second time, for that matter. She threw two."

Connor remarked to Fergus absently, "Okay. So, she blows up lakes. Remind me to never stand on a frozen lake, when she is anywhere around."

Morgaine's eyes flashed to the Princeling and she glared, promising painful retribution with her eyes. Galahad chuckled, Gawain attempting to smother his own mirth. Morgaine, obviously using the eyes in the back of her head, snapped at them both, "If you two don't want to be sleeping alone tonight, you'll both stop laughing."

Both of their faces smoothed in a second. Flat. Fergus remarked from Connor's left, "And did I mention her two husbands?"

"Yes, you mentioned them."

"Just checking."

When they arrived at Sanctuary, Morgaine rolled her eyes at the fixed gazes of Sanctuary's eligible young women on Lancelot's bonny form. "Bergisa?"

"What Morgaine?"

"I'd put a leash on your husband, if I were you."

Lancelot, having noticed the women's admiring gazes, obviously preened. Bergisa turned to look at her husband, inquiring, "Lance, what are you doing?"

Morgaine chuckled, "That's kind of why I said put a leash on him. He has many admirers."

Lancelot grinned, cracking, "Just tell me where to turn my backside so that they have an unobstructed view."

Bergisa's hand collided loudly with her husband's face. "Pig!"

"Could you get the other side as well?"

Bergisa's other hand collided with the other side of her husband's face. "Arrogant jerk!"

Almost immediately, Lancelot and Bergisa were embroiled in another of their legendary arguments. Morgaine and the rest of their party only rolled their eyes and moved away. Connor was fascinated by the two's behavior. "Is that normal?"

"Yes."

"Do they love each other?"

"Very much. You wouldn't know it though, to look at them."

"Is that what marriage is like then?"

"No, just with them."

"So what's with all the slapping?"

"This is their version of foreplay."

"I see." Connor replied, before turning to Molly, "Molly, if I told you I needed to be slapped around from time to time, what would you do?"

Molly only grinned at him, her expression innocent and playful as she replied, "I'd send my father to do it."

Connor grimaced. "Remind me not to tell you I need to be slapped around from time to time."

Meanwhile, Gawain was holding Freya, who was looking around Sanctuary with wide eyes. She looked up at her Papa and asked, "Who he?"

Gawain followed her outstretched finger and replied, "That's Fergus, baby."

"Fergi?"

"No, baby, Fer-gus."

There was a pause and she asked again, "Fergi?" she questioned, her ivy eyes wide and curious.

Gawain let out a sigh and let his head fall forward. "Yes, baby, that's Fergi."

"Fergi!" Freya shouted, starting to struggle in her Papa's arms so that she could get down and play with her new friend, "Fergi".

As Freya scampered off, Gawain looked up at the ceiling of the rock Sanctuary, muttering, "Gods help me, when Fergus finds out who told her his name was Fergi."


	79. Chapter 79

AN: I'm just going to skip the reviews this chapter. Because it's late and I'm tired. This is a little bit of a comic chapter, because it gets kinda serious and upsetting for the rest of the book. Let me know what you think okay? I'm sorry about no Kindly Words, but I'm just tired. It's like one o'clock in the morning here and I've been up since five, yesterday morning. I just want to sleep. I promise. I'll be long and flowery later. Kisses to all of my loyal and lovely reviewers. I miss you all.

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Gawain and Galahad approached Arthur later that night. "We need a Council, now."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Morgaine."

"What's she done now?"

"Nothing. She's only married to us," Galahad remarked, dryly.

Lancelot cracked, "It's too late to object to that. You missed your chance at the altar."

Both of her husbands glared at the elder. "Lance. Shut up. No, we're here. In a place, where we don't know how they feel about polygamy. Could you perhaps guess why we're nervous? Or do we have to spell it out for you?"

"Spell it out for us."

"Morgaine. Me. Gawain. Anyone else see a problem?"

Arthur finally caught on. "This is a Gaheris thing, isn't it?"

Galahad glared at his king, "Never say that name again. We've already dealt with him. But yes, this is a…..damn it I can't say his name, kinda thing."

"Ah."

"That's it? Ah?" Galahad asked, before Gawain placed a hand on the Youngest's shoulder. "Gal, he's baiting you."

Galahad's mouth dropped open, before his jaw clacked shut. "I knew that."

Lancelot rolled his eyes, "Sure you did."

Galahad growled, "Lance, I kicked your ass once, I can do it again."

"Bring it on, little one," Lancelot taunted, before he was caught broadside by Galahad's fist. "OW!"

Galahad just shrugged. "You said to bring it on. Just like you said to shoot you."

"I said to shoot me? When?"

Gawain exchanged a look with Galahad, taunting the younger of the two, "See? I told you he wouldn't remember."

"You didn't say he wouldn't remember. You said he'd kill me if I shot him."

"Fact remains, he didn't remember."

"Who was going to shoot me?" Lancelot inquired, confused and curious. Galahad only looked at the ceiling. Lancelot caught the innocent expression and questioned, "Galahad? Were you going to shoot me?"

Galahad shrugged and announced in his defense, "You told me to."

"Still? You tried to shoot me!"

Arthur held out a hand. "All right. Now that that's been settled, can we get back on the subject at hand?"

"Okay. So, last time we tried to hide it, Morgaine got sick. What are we going to do?"

"We can just tell them and see what happens?" Dagonet offered, in his usual quiet tone.

Gawain and Galahad both announced, simultaneously, "Not going to happen! Next!"

Morgaine approached at that moment. "What's happening?"

Arthur spoke to his sister calmly, "Your husbands are concerned about the reaction to your marriage….ges."

Morgaine blinked. "Huh? Why would they be worried?"

"It's a Gah…..Sarmatia thing."

"A Gaheris thing?" Rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips, Morgaine questioned, "So what's the problem?"

"We're married," Galahad explained. Well, kind of explained.

"We've been married for almost ten years, Sarmatian. And you just now figured that out? Get a little bit more specific."

"We don't want to jeopardize our marriage. It's a Gah…Sarmatia thing."

"Oh for the Gods' sakes, just call it a Gaheris thing already. That's what it is," Morgaine reminded them, rolling her eyes in frustration. "So what do you plan to do about it?" There was a pause and she eyed them seriously, "You're not going to try and hide it again, are you? Because we all know how well that worked out the first time."

"So what? You think we should tell them?"

"Why not? What else are we going to do?"

"Well I was thinking, that we could sneak around behind their backs."

"I'm not sneaking around with my own husbands, thank you. Nice try. Think again."

"I'm serious. With some disguises and secret meeting places with hidden entrances…."

"And do you hear yourselves?" Morgaine questioned, her eyes dry, indicating that she thought they were being stupid.

"No no no. We've thought it out. It's not a bad idea!"

"You're right, it's not a bad idea," Morgaine conceded, before exploding, "It's a terrible idea!"

"We're experienced Knights. We could be coming and going and they'd never have to know about it."

"But I would. No."

Both Galahad and Gawain immediately whined, "But Morgaine….!"

"You both sound like your Little King."

Galahad grinned, "That's the whole point of whining. To get your way. Ryan excels at the art of getting his way."

"Sarmatian, in case you've forgotten, so do you. It's one of the reasons I though he was yours for so long."

Galahad pouted, before begging his wife, "Please? I don't want them to find out and have another Gah…..Sarmatia on our hands."

"Gaheris."

"Don't say that."

"Such brave Knights, reduced to whiny children. What are you so afraid of?"

Gawain answered for Galahad, "Losing you. Lady, we're afraid of losing you. Again. For the third time. Can you please just go along with this?"

Morgaine humphed a sigh. "Well I guess since you're so impassioned in your plea. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. Fine, just stop whining. I have four children. I don't need two more."

Galahad beamed at Gawain. "I told you we could annoy her into it."

Morgaine glared at her youngest husband, "Sarmatian, be careful, or I'll change my mind."

"You can't."

"Like hell I can't. I can change my mind whenever I like. Changing our minds is a woman's prerogative. Don't test me. Fine, we'll sneak around and act like guilty lovers. Does that make you feel better?"

Galahad and Gawain both lunged at their wife, smothering her with kisses and hugs. Morgaine laughed at their treatment, mock-struggling, before shouting, "Get off! I can't breathe!"

The next day, Morgaine was walking with Gawain and Sanora. They were approached by a young man with dark curls and blue eyes. He reminded Morgaine a little of Galahad, what with the guilt in his eyes and the curls on his head. "Are you the Princess Morgaine?"

"Aye. Who are you?"

"My name is Ian. Is this your husband?"

Morgaine grumbled under her breath. It was decided among the three, that in public, Galahad would be Morgaine's husband. "No."

"Aren't you her husband Gawain?"

Gawain cocked an eyebrow at the young man. "Her husband is Galahad."

"I know. But her second husband is Gawain. Right? You're Gawain?"

Gawain looked down at Morgaine. "Just forget everything we decided yesterday."

Morgaine grinned, smugly, "Gladly."

Gawain placed his hands on his hips and questioned his wife, "Who'd you tell?"

"I didn't tell anyone."

Ian spoke up. "Connor told us."

"You told Connor!" Gawain demanded of his wife, to which Morgaine shouted back, "No! I agreed! I didn't tell anyone."

"No, Connor told us what Fergus told him."

Morgaine looked at Gawain, smirking. "You and my Sarmatian forgot one tiny little variable. I already introduced you both," she sing-songed.

"Oh yeah. Fergi."

"I don't imagine he's going to like you calling him that," Morgaine warned.

"What he doesn't know, won't kill me," Gawain remarked diplomatically.

Ian remarked, "I really don't think he'd like it."

Gawain looked down at the shorter man and threatened, "Which is why you're not going to tell him. Right?"

Ian gulped at the threat in Gawain's expressive sky blue eyes. "No, Sir Gawain, wouldn't tell a soul. Uh….Bye!"

Morgaine looped her arm through her husband's as Ian raced off at top speed. "My love, don't threaten the allies."

"I didn't threaten him. I predicted dire consequences. Nora, did I threaten him?"

"No, Papa, you didn't threaten him." Sanora replied, before she chuckled, looping her hand through her father's free hand. "You don't have to worry, though Papa, Freya already told Fergus."

"Oh gods I'm dead!" Gawain moaned, his head dropping back. "Well I guess it could be worse."

Morgaine looked up at her husband, questioning, "Why is that?"

"I'm spending my last hours with my two favorite women. I could think of worse ways to go."

Morgaine rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

Gawain beamed. "I know. But you love me anyway."

"And only the Gods know why."


	80. Chapter 80

AN: Two chapters in one night. Aren't you special? Kisses to all of my loyal and lovely reviewers. I miss you all.

Chapter Eighty

Nearly two weeks into their stay at Sanctuary, the Briton-Sarmatian children were starting to get restless. Archie was the eldest at 14, with Desiree, Cyria, Cyrus, Freya, Takara and Marianne all tied for the second youngest at five and Michelle's little Katherine the very youngest at two years old. The Knights were with the Celtic lieutenants discussing war plans, while the women sat quilting beside the waterfall inside of Sanctuary.

Morgaine knew something was up when all of the children converged on their mothers at once. Freya had obviously been selected as their spokesperson, curtsying prettily to the women before her. "Mother, esteemed Ladies of the Court, my cousins and I beseech an audience with you," Freya announced, her very grown-up speech at odds with her five year old lisp.

Guinevere leaned over, "How come she can give such a pretty speech, and can't call Fergus by his given name?"

"I have a feeling she's been practicing that speech, probably for quite some time."

Guinevere nodded once, before returning her attention to the children before her. "All right then, what's wrong? Did one of you kill your brothers again?"

Morgause looked offended that her mother would even suggest such a thing, but Sanora only shook her head. "No, Aunt Guinevere. All of our brothers are still alive."

The rest of the girls stated as one, "Unfortunately."

Morgaine ducked her head to conceal her grin. "All right then, dove, what's your plea?"

"My cousins and I find ourselves growing restless in our current surroundings. When we were at home, we could play wherever and whenever we desired. Here, there is no such freedom. We were wondering if there was somewhere we could go that would afford us some privacy and fresh air," Freya stated very solemnly.

Morgaine let her needlework fall into her lap and she drew her youngest close to her. "That was a very beautiful speech, poppet."

Freya blushed in pleasure at the compliment. "Can we Mama?" she begged, her dark emerald eyes pleading. The other children immediately started to plead with their own mothers.

Morgaine wrapped her arm around Freya, as Takara wiggled up onto her lap with Ryan standing close to her, turning to look at Molly who sat amongst the women. "What do you think, Molly? Is there anywhere we could take the children so that they could run and play?"

"I don't know of anywhere they could play. But I do know of a berry patch a couple minutes away from Sanctuary. They could run and pick berries for supper tonight. I'll take you there. Sanctuary is still hidden from there, but it's the best I can do. I'm sorry."

Morgaine leaned back and looked down into Freya and Ryan's faces. "What do you think, my pets? Would you like to go and pick some berries for supper?"

"Oh yes!" they cried, their eyes alight with pleasure.

"All right. Go change into your play clothes and we'll go," Guinevere announced, laughing lightly as the children cheered.

Michelle shouted after her two eldest children as they scampered away, "Marianne! Liam! Keep an eye on your little sister!"

Liam shouted back over his shoulder, "Yes Mama!" as Marianne took Katherine's hand in her own.

Michelle looked around the circle. "Who wants to tell the men?"

Morgaine stood, gripping the rock formation before her to steady herself on her legs. "I'll tell them. I'll be back."

The other women nodded, watching as Morgaine grabbed her cane and hobbled toward Connor's chambers where the men and Catlin were in Council. Morgaine pushed aside the curtain and limped carefully into the room. Galahad and Gawain both looked up, lunging to their feet and coming to her sides. At the sight of their Princess, the other Knights rose as well. Galahad scooped her up and seated her in his lap, as they all sat down again. "Nazneen? What's wrong?"

"The children are restless. Molly is going to take them and some of us women to a spot where wild berries grow."

"Are you sure you can make it that far?"

"I'll be fine. I'll have my cane. Molly said it's not that far from here."

Fergus shook his head. "No, it's not, lad. I know the berry fields she's talking about. It's only about a couple minutes walk from here."

Galahad nodded, squeezing her tightly. "All right. Be careful, Nazneen. Keep your eyes open for any Roman patrols."

"I will, Sarmatian. You two worry too much. It's not good for your health," she teased, her eyes alight with love and laughter.

The two men only smiled at her, watching as she limped painfully from the room. Galahad leaned back in his chair, his eyes solemn. "Gods, I hope she's careful."

Morgaine changed into a short dress of homespun cotton, the hem several inches above her ankles. Grabbing her cane from the corner, she proceeded to join the rest of the women at the waterfall. The children were dashing about, both girls and boys clad in trousers and tunics for easy mobility. Freya saw her mother, scampering forward with Takara, both launching into her arms. "Come on, Mama. We're gonna get left behind."

Morgaine took the little girls' hands into hers and smiled. "I doubt they'll leave us, sweetings. Come on."

The three moved after the other women and their children as Molly led them out of Sanctuary. A short walk away, they arrived at the berry fields. Blackberries, marionberries, blueberries, and strawberries all grew wild among the trees. The children's eyes grew wide and each looked in the direction of their mother. Guinevere smiled. "Go on, enjoy your freedom."

The children squealed with delight and raced off, laughing and giggling amongst themselves as they picked the juicy berries from their bushes. Morgaine settled herself against a tree, smiling as the children dashed to and fro. The other women followed her example, continuing with their sewing as though they had never stopped. Michelle turned to look at the newest member of their exclusive society. "So, Mary, when will we see your waist thicken with child?"

Mary blushed, her head ducking deeply over her mending. "I already have a child. He's called my husband. Let me get him trained first and then we'll talk about children."

Morgaine laughed. "I had my son trained first, my husbands later."

Guinevere burst out into all out laughter. "Your husbands still aren't trained!"

"That's not entirely accurate. They have their moments, true, but generally, they do as I tell them. Generally."

"Except for whenever they feel like disobeying."

"That's beside the point. I was so proud of them. Quit ruining it."

"You totally cave to them, every time."

"Of course I do. So does Guin."

Guinevere blushed as all eyes turned to their Queen. "What? He's the King!"

"Sure. He's just the King," they all teased, giggling together as Guinevere's cheeks blazed with heat.

"And none of you cave to your husbands?" Morgaine taunted, knowing full well that they did.

The other women looked upwards and away, trying to deny that they did anything of the sort. Only Vanora met Morgaine's eyes head on. "Now, dearie, you know as well as anyone. Bors doesn't get any slack from me."

"Which is the only reason he has 14 children," Morgaine remarked dryly.

Vanora, the eldest of the wives there, surprised everyone by giving a rather maidenly blush. The rest started to tease her, watching her cheeks flame. There was a rustle in the bushes and Morgaine looked up in alarm. "What was that?"

Guinevere stopped as well, listening for whatever sound Morgaine had heard. It came again and all of the women were up and shouting for their children. Morgaine gathered her children close to her, forced by her leg to remain seated. Sanora huddled under her arm, Archie standing at their back with his knife unsheathed. Takara and Freya were perched in her lap and Ryan was pressed tightly to her other side.

Back at the Sanctuary, the men had just left their council. All their heads shot up as an unholy scream rippled through the stillness of the caves. Gawain's eyes widened. "Oh my Gods. Sanora."


	81. Chapter 81

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: I'm so sorry for not updating this for so long. You have every right to yell at me all you want. God, I feel like a schmuck! Anyway, this is going to be a quick update. I'm still not happy with the very next chapter, so I'll let you revel in this one for now. I'll try to update more often, now that my laptop can get on the internet and I don't have to use my mom's. Thank you all for being so loyal, and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eighty-One

Minutes earlier, as Morgaine and the other mothers gathered their children close, five Roman scouts emerged from the brush, surrounding them easily. None but Molly had thought to bring weapons and all the mothers could do was shield their children from the Roman's eyes. Morgaine ducked her head and whispered in Sanora's ear, "Sanora, I want you to bring your Papa here."

Sanora looked up at her mother, looking so much like Gawain Morgaine ached for him. "How do I do that, Mama?"

"Scream, Princess. Scream long, scream loud."

Sanora nodded once, opened her mouth and let out an all unholy scream. The horses upon which the scouts were perched skittered in fright as Sanora's scream went on and on and on. The scouts forced the horses to a standstill, before Sanora's cry trailed off with lack of air. Molly stood between the mothers and their children, and the scouts. One of the scouts recognized her. "It's Connor's head lieutenant! Get her!"

Molly glared and ran forward, leaping up and stabbing the man through the gut. His mouth dropped open in shock and he toppled to the ground, dead. The other scouts, surprised by the warrior's quick movements, stood for a moment in shock before dismounting and advancing on Molly.

Meanwhile back at Sanctuary, as the scream reverberated, Gawain could feel the walls start to close in. Fergus commented idly, "Sounds like a banshee. They foretell death, they do."

Gawain shook his head, headed for his horse. "That's not a banshee."

Connor looked at Gawain in confusion as the big Knight saddled his horse and swung up. "How do you know? You're a Sarmatian."

"I know that's not a banshee," he insisted, as Galahad, Lancelot and Arthur all swung up onto their horses alongside him, "That's my daughter, Sanora."

"Ye have a banshee for a daughter? How many deaths have ye had?"

"Sanora is not a banshee. She'd only scream like that if something was wrong. Now are you coming, or not?"

Connor, realizing that Gawain was serious about the scream's origin, swung up onto his own horse, with Fergus following his lead. "Come on. We have to get to the berry fields."

Thundering toward the entrance, the Knights and Celts ran their horses full out toward where Molly was still trying to hold off all of the scouts alone. Just as Connor arrived at the clearing, a sword slashed through Molly's arm. She flinched backward, away from the blade, with a sharp cry. The sound of pounding hooves filled the immediate area and the scouts panicked, racing toward their horses and riding off, just as the rest of them arrived. Fergus, Lancelot and Arthur continued after the scouts, as Connor, Galahad and Gawain moved to calm the frightened women and children. Sanora, seeing her Papa, lunged forward out of her mother's arms, her body colliding hard with his solar plexus. Gawain grunted at the impact, before wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Sanora, are you all right?"

"I'm fine Papa. Mama told me to bring you here."

"Well, you brought me all right. You took about twenty years off my life with that scream of yours," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, tucking her against his side and striding back to where Morgaine stood with her remaining children. Morgaine lunged into her husband's arms, both she and her children seeking comfort from the gentle blond Knight. Galahad, though itching to comfort his wife and kids, proceeded to calm the others, knowing that they needed to get back to Sanctuary.

Connor crouched beside a fallen Molly. He yanked a piece of cloth from the dead man's tunic and pressed it tightly to the slash. "You'll need stitches. It's pretty deep."

Molly nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Ow."

Connor chuckled at her sense of humor and lifted her into his arms, carrying her back to his horse. Arthur and the others returned, a scout alive but unconscious over his saddle. "Are you all okay?"

Morgaine nodded, her eyes streaming tears down her face. Arthur dismounted and swept her into his arms. "You're safe, sister. I promise."

Morgaine nodded, before a cramp in her leg caused her to cry out. Lancelot dismounted next and came over. "Are you all right? Don't lie, Morgaine. Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded, "I'm fine. It was just a cramp. Where are the other scouts?"

Fergus spoke, still on his horse beside Connor's, his eyes firmly fixed on his daughter's face. "Dead, lass. You're safe. They haven't found Sanctuary today."

She nodded, allowing Galahad to scoop her up and place her on his own horse. The tiniest children were piled onto the horses, the men taking the reins and leading them away. Lucan, seeing his new wife shaking violently as she was led into Sanctuary, broke away from where Accolon was trying to talk sense into his head. "Mary!" he shouted, gathering her up and close to him.

She sobbed and clung to him, her body buckling against his own. He scooped her up and carried her away, frightened by her tears. The remaining Knights followed his example, claiming their wives and children, and leading them away to console and comfort them.

Arthur hauled the unconscious scout off his saddle and looked at Connor. "Leave Molly with Morgaine. She'll stitch the girl up and Molly will be as right as rain. Where can I lock him up?"

Connor handed Molly into Morgaine's care and led Arthur toward the cells. Pulling open the door, Arthur tossed the body in and slammed it closed, sealing the tiny room in darkness.


	82. Chapter 82

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Kindly words for my Kindly reviewers. Finally!

The green lama: Yes, Sanora is really sweet. And no, you're not supposed to know the answer about Gaheris. You'll find out soon enough. I promise. And Molly is awesome. She's perfectly suited for Connor, in my humble, author's opinion.

lilstrummrgrl527: All right, I don't feet unloved. And yes, I know that time is really busy. I forgive you. I know the feeling.

blu-waffle: While that may be the case, I won't be letting you get away with it. At all! You'll review all the time! Or else! (J/K) I'm glad you liked the banshee line. And yes, Gawain adores his daughter hopelessly. And Mary's fine. She was just frightened. Thank you for the compliment, I'm glad you like this.

Babak: Hey sweetie! I'm glad you liked that line between Gawain and Sanora. She and Morgaine are his whole world. He would do anything to protect them. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

June Birdie: I'm glad you like. Please keep reading.

ZELINIA: Hello, pet. Yes, I feel very bad for the scout. You'll see what happens to him today. I hope you enjoy. Oh! And the other story? You said you were working on a chapter? Any timeframe when that'll be done? Just out of curiosity. Because otherwise, I can write it for you. Let me know, all right?

:op: I'm glad you liked that line. I hope you like this chapter as well. Keep reading, my darling, and I'll keep writing.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Arthur stood in the doorway of the room, watching through the window as the scout paced back and forth along the length of the floor. Turning to Lancelot, he questioned, "Do you think we'll get anything useful out of him?"

"Probably not. I mean, he is a Roman. What's so useful about them? One dies, another fills their place."

Arthur glared at his best friend, before reminding him sharply, "I AM A ROMAN!"

Lancelot had the grace to look abashed. "Oops. Sorry, Arthur, I forgot."

"Oh, that's nice to know." Arthur remarked snidely, before returning his attention to the scout. "All right, let's get in there and find out what we can about the Roman troops and their commanders."

About an hour later, they came out, still clueless and lacking anything knowledgeable. Lancelot turned to Arthur, "Can I just remind you of something?"

Arthur shrugged, "Sure. What?"

"I told you we wouldn't get anything out of him."

"Yes, but you gave a very bad reason as to why."

Lancelot shrugged and glanced at Morgaine, who was standing among the rest of the Knights. "What's she doing here?"

"Probably telling Connor about Molly," Arthur commented, before moving toward the Knights and the Celts. "Not to mention, I'll just go ask her what I'm supposed to do anyway. This just saves me a trip."

Lancelot sighed and shook his head, following Arthur toward them. "You realize that most kings don't name their sisters their Chief Advisors, right?"

"I'm not like most kings. Most kings aren't close enough to you to behead you, should you say anything bad about said advisor."

Lancelot shrugged. "She's my sister, too. Just remember that."

Morgaine looked back at them as they came closer and she could hear them arguing. "Are you two quite done?"

Both looked shamefaced at being caught, before Arthur kissed his sister's temple. "Yes, sister, we're quite done."

"Good. My Sarmatian has an idea as to interrogating the scout."

"Galahad has an idea?" Catlin snarled, before remarking coldly, "I'm shocked. I thought the only thing he could do was sit around and look pretty."

Dagonet joked, "Well, you got the sitting around part at least."

Connor asked curiously, "What do you have against Sir Galahad anyway, Cat?"

Catlin looked at Connor in shock, before exploding, "He tried to kill me!"

Galahad snapped back, "You tried to kill my wife!"

"At least I didn't try to kill you!"

Gawain remarked caustically, "He wouldn't be as angry if you'd tried to kill him. Trying to kill my Lady was the stupidest thing you could have done."

"You know, most men are happy to be alive and not the target of someone's bow. Why is he so different?"

"We've lost her three times. We know what's it's like to live without her. Trying to end her existence, permanently? Yeah he got a little mad."

"Still doesn't explain why?" Catlin snapped, furious.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, "It doesn't?"

Morgaine threw up her hands in frustration. "Oh this is ridiculous. May I remind you? WE'RE ALL ON THE SAME SIDE!" she shrieked, her eyes blazing indigo. A color they only turned when she was really REALLY upset. "Now, if we're all done talking about how Catlin tried to kill me? We have work to do. Sarmatian, tell them your idea."

Galahad crossed his arms defiantly across his chest. "Why? She's only going to shoot it down again." He paused and continued snidely, "No pun intended."

Catlin bared her teeth at him, getting a similar reaction back. Morgaine rolled her eyes, grabbed her husband by the jaw and pulled him down for a devastating kiss. When she was sure he could no longer breathe, she let him up. "Galahad, tell Arthur your idea. NOW."

He sighed, "Right. Okay, well it kind of goes like this. I'm a Roman."

Catlin grabbed her knife and threw it at him, shouting, "Traitor!"

Morgaine reached up and snatched the blade from the air. "Not literally!" she snapped, throwing the blade into the ground.

Arthur was still standing where he was, knowing that Morgaine would protect her husband and he didn't need to do anything but wait for the rest of the plan. Lancelot was not so patient, "Okay; we're still waiting for the punch line."

"There is no punch line. I pretend to be a Roman. The scouts didn't see me. They don't know I'm Sarmatian. I speak Latin as well as any Roman. I look Roman. And we have plenty of Roman gear just lying about."

"Galahad, how are you going to pull it off? He'll know you're not Roman. He wouldn't recognize you."

"So rough me up a bit. I'll tell him I've been captive for months. And that I'm out of the loop. And while we're discussing escape plans, I'll be able to get us information."

Lancelot looked at Galahad and asked, "Is this your way of trying to say sorry for trying to shoot me?"

Galahad threw up his hands in frustration. "You told me to!"

Morgaine glanced over at Bergisa who had accompanied her in joining the Knights outside the scout's cell. "You know what? I don't think I want to know."

Bergisa shook her head. "I know how you feel. I don't think I want to know either."

Morgaine thought for a moment and then started to chuckle, "Although, you have to admit. There sounds like there's one hell of a story behind that statement."

"We'll get it out of our husbands later. When we're alone. And standard interrogation techniques are allowed."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at his sister, "So that's what you call it? Standard interrogation techniques?"

Morgaine shook her head, laughing, "No, I usually call it seduction."


	83. Chapter 83

AN: Hey guys, I'm so sorry for neglecting you guys. It's been a pretty hectic couple of months. Two jobs, 60 hours a week. Friends, family, writing, total chaos. Anyway, I'm going to give some kindly words for my kindly reviewers.

HGandRHForever: You're back! You make me so happy! And thank you, I'm glad you think I'm still the best KA writer ever. You make me so happy!

Shpadana Zizais: Welcome to the party! I hope you keep reading and enjoying what you're reading. And thanks for pointing out little details. But there are methods to my madness, I promise. I hope you keep reading.

Babak: My lover! I must confess, I was worried that you were so long in updating. And I'm glad you liked my last line. It's the best one yet, I think.

the green lama: And yes, Morgaine's slowly starting to lose her temper with Catlin. But yes, Arthur will have further reaction about his sister's confession shortly.

Evenstar-mor2004: Hey! I'm glad you liked it.

Vintersong: I hope you like it.

ZELINIA: I'm glad you liked it. And I agree with you about Catlin. She's pretty cool, I've always liked her character. Keep reading, okay?

blu-waffle: And yes, it is your duty to review me. And I wouldn't hurt a beautiful reviewer. And I'm glad you like the interaction between Galahad and Catlin. They're a lot of fun to write, to be honest. And yes, Galahad does have a pretty face, doesn't he? He's so handsome!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Thanks. Updated!

op: I'm sorry that I've kept you waiting again. And I'm glad you think about them like that. I want them to be old friends that you love and adore. And here's some more for you. Thank you for waiting patiently.

lilstrmmrgrl527: Thanks for the review! I hope you review again. I miss everybody so much.

And now, on with the show!

Chapter Eighty-Three

_Morgaine shook her head, laughing, "No, I usually call it seduction."_

Arthur shuddered at the comment, remarking, "I really didn't need to know what my baby sister does with her husbands. Thank you."

Morgaine chuckled, teasing, "You're welcome."

Arthur shuddered again and looked at Connor. "What do you think?"

Connor nodded, "It sounds like a good plan. He's right. He looks Roman."

Galahad blanched. "Okay, I'm allowed to say that. Not you. Nazneen! Do I look Roman?"

Morgaine reached out, soothing ruffled feathers. "No, baby, you don't look Roman. You look just like my baby."

Galahad buried his head in her shoulder, milking her concern and comfort for all it was worth. Gawain rolled his eyes, muttering in Sarmatian, "Suck up!"

Galahad glared, "Shut up."

Arthur spoke, "Okay. Lancelot…Tristan. You take care of it. Once he's got the information, get him out and bring him to me. I'll be in Connor's chambers."

Tristan used his knife to continue whittling at the apple in his hand. Eating the slice right off the knife, he nodded menacingly at Arthur. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Galahad grimaced. "This isn't going to be fun."

The two Knights led Galahad away, handing him a Roman uniform to put on. Galahad changed and then sighed, looking at Lancelot resolutely. "Oh, just get it over with."

Lancelot pulled back his fist, and then threw the arm with all of his strength behind it. He jerked forward, surprised, as Tristan grabbed his hand with his free one, the other bringing his apple to his lips nonchalantly. "Lance, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to punch him."

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I don't understand. Rough up Galahad. How is this so hard?"

"No no no. Maximum damage. Minimal pain. I've studied in this extensively. Let me show you. See, you have to ball your fist like this. You don't want to hit here, the man'll never see it. And here is too obvious. So you go for here," he explained, pulling his fist back and punching Galahad squarely in the solar plexus.

Galahad groaned and doubled over. Lancelot nodded, "Oh I see. Okay, let me try."

Galahad straightened slowly, only to double again as Lancelot missed the mark and decked him in the stomach. Galahad dropped to his knees, retching up bile. For the next ten minutes, Tristan proceeded to instruct Lancelot in beating up Galahad. Finally, Morgaine came to investigate. She stared in horror as Tristan shook his head and exclaimed, "Lancelot, you're not doing it right at all."

Galahad was still on his knees, unwilling and unable to move. Morgaine stepped forward, just as Tristan started to throw another punch. "Stop this, this instant!"

Tristan nearly lost his balance as he tried to pull up. "What's wrong Your Highness?"

"Tristan, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to show Lancelot how to beat up Galahad."

Morgaine looked incredulously and threw a hand in Galahad's direction, "Tristan, you are beating up Galahad!"

Gawain arrived behind Morgaine, watching the scene in surprise as Galahad dropped forward onto his hands, heaving in air. Galahad whimpered, feeling as though he was one great bruise. "Mama," he murmured, wanting nothing more than his mother, Medora.

Gawain cocked an eyebrow. "Gal, you're nearly 33 years old. Why are you still calling for your mother?"

"It works for Ryan," Galahad muttered petulantly, glaring at his friend venomously.

Gawain cocked an eyebrow. "Your mother is in Sarmatia. You really want to go back?"

There was a pause as Galahad considered that, and then he whimpered, "Nazneen!" There was nowhere that Galahad hated more than Sarmatia.

The sound of his pet-name for her galvanized the Dark Child into action. She dashed to her husband's side, pulling him into her arms and tucking him beneath her chin as though he was one of her children. Her fingers threaded through his curls like a knife through butter, her voice low and soothing as she murmured Sarmatian endearments in his ear. Gawain rolled his eyes. "You know, he's supposed to be a Roman enemy."

"After he enters the cell. Until then, he's my baby. It's okay," she soothed, pressing kisses to his forehead.

Lancelot crouched and taunted Galahad, "Would you like one of us to go in there with you, Galahad? Hold your hand? Kiss your wounds like we're your mama?"

Galahad's fist came flying out of the corner of Lancelot's eyes, catching him full in the jaw. Lancelot went flying backwards, his hand coming up to cradle the injured area. "Damn it! Why can't I remember not to rile him! Ow!"

Morgaine glared at her eldest brother, snarling, "Technically, you deserved that."

Tristan teased, "Only technically?"

"Okay, so he deserved it. Period."

Gawain chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "To be honest, it should've been you, Lance. I mean, you can withstand any kind of pain. Right?"

Lancelot glowered at the younger Knight and muttered petulantly, "Shut up, Gawain."

Galahad chuckled, before groaning and grabbing his ribs. Morgaine's head shot up and the Dark Child's eyes spat fire at Tristan. "If you broke ribs, I'm going to kill you."

"I know how to not break ribs. Just a lot of bruising," Tristan insisted, sounding affronted by her lack of faith. "A LOT of bruising."

Morgaine glared and Gawain spoke up, "This is probably not a good time to be gloating about your beating abilities, Tristan. Trust me."

Galahad spoke up from where his head was tucked under Morgaine's chin, "I think I'm too wounded to be believable."

Tristan snarked, "Well, if you would prefer, we can let ya heal up and then do it all over again. Getting it right this time of course."

Galahad only groaned. "Oh! This isn't fair. Just, throw me in there already. The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can milk my wife for all the comfort I want."


	84. Chapter 84

AN: Hey guys, I'm so sorry for neglecting you guys. It's been a pretty hectic couple of months. Two jobs, 60 hours a week. Friends, family, writing, total chaos. By the way, I'm ENGAGED!

Chapter Eighty-Four

Galahad stood and allowed Lancelot and Tristan to take his arms, dragging him toward the cell. Putting on a good show, he was cursing and screaming in Latin as they pulled open the door and threw him in. The suddenness of impact against the packed dirt floor actually aggravated his injuries and he let out a real groan. Morgaine, hearing the sound, whirled on the two Knights and glared. "If anything else happens to him, both of your heads will be mounted on my chamber wall. So help me Gods."

"I wouldn't worry about him too much," Lancelot commented, rubbing the spot on his jaw where a bruise was forming from Galahad's punch.

Morgaine glared at Lancelot and stormed out, furious. Tristan shook his head, still whittling on his apple, as he reminded Lancelot, "That may not have been the smartest thing you've ever done, Lance."

"Ah, she'll get over it. She can't hate me. She's tried."

"She doesn't have to hate you. Just make your life miserable."

"How would she do that? I'm already married."

"She could bring harmony between you and my sister."

Lancelot's eyes widened and he looked so horrified that Tristan couldn't help laughing. "I'd better go apologize."

"If you cherish the merry war between you and Bergisa, that's a very good idea."

Lancelot turned tail and ran as fast as he could after his sister. "Morgaine! Wait!"

Galahad meanwhile was still trying to catch his breath from his jarring contact with the floor. The scout watching Galahad curiously, before speaking in Latin, "Who are you?"

Galahad pushed himself up with a pained groan, slumping backward against the wall in real pain as he wheezed, "My name is Maximus. And you?"

"Gaius Flavius Gustavus."

Galahad grunted, nodding once. "So, how long have you been in this hell hole?" he asked, giving the sound of a longsuffering prisoner.

"I was just taken captive."

Galahad grunted again. "Lucky you. I was taken nearly six months ago."

"And you're still alive?"

"They still have use for me. I guess, don't ask me what use that is."

"Where have you been that you weren't here?"

"I told you, they still have use for me. And I'm not usually cooperative," he wheezed, hoping that the scout would begin to trust a fellow mistreated soldier, though his wheezing was real enough. Silently he threatened Lancelot with all manners of bodily harm. The older Knight had better watch his back, or he'd find an arrow in it.

The scout cracked a smile and questioned, "So, what's the only thing smellier than a Sarmatian warrior?"

Galahad's jaw tightened and he grunted, "What?"

"Two Sarmatian warriors," the man laughed, slapping his knee at his own joke.

Galahad broke into a forced coughing fit so that he wouldn't be forced to laugh. When the coughs died down, Galahad questioned, "Why do you say Sarmatian?"

"I served with a band of Sarmatian Knights nearly fifteen years ago. Filthy, uncouth, barbaric group, the lot of them."

The corner of Galahad's mouth turned up as Lancelot's face appeared in his mind's eye. "Must have been in Britain then."

"Before the Emperor pulled us out. Worked with Arthur and his Knights."

Galahad ducked his head farther to stay out of the light, hoping not to be recognized. "I see. So, who's in charge? Still the old man?"

The man cocked an eyebrow, before shaking his head. "The old man is dead. The Queen's advisor is a man named Longenus. They say he's a magician."

Galahad grunted, thinking of Merlin back home. _"Why does every army have a magician?"_ he thought, before returning his attention back to the scout before him.

"Any new recruits?"

"No, there haven't been any incoming soldiers for nearly three months. There's about fifteen hundred of us left, and that's it."

Galahad nodded, "Did they move the command center?"

"No."

Galahad nodded, swearing violently under his breath in Sarmatian. "Who's the new commander? You said the old man was dead."

"His name is Justus. He's a bitter man. And most of the men are ready to rebel."

Galahad filed that knowledge away, trying to think of how they could use it to their advantage. "The Queen's bed still empty?"

"There are rumors that both her commander and her advisor share such duties."

"Her commander is close enough to have such a place in her bed?" Galahad asked curiously, sensing that this was the answer to the question of the command center.

"Her castle houses his troops. All of their offensives come from her fortress."

Galahad nodded, a small smile flitting across his lips. "I've thought about escaping, but I've been here so long, I can't remember how to get back."

"Follow the coastline to the North. You'll hit what the Irish call the Banshee Cliffs. In the valley by the water, you'll find her castle. It's about three leagues from here."

Galahad nodded, slumping back against the wall. "Shouldn't be too hard to find, right?"

"Right."

Galahad pushed himself up slowly from the wall and moved cautiously toward the door. Reaching out, he knocked on it quickly. The scout watched him confused, "What are you doing?"

Galahad sighed and turned to look at the man. "I'm not a Roman. I'm a Sarmatian," he confessed, before using some of what precious little remained to his strength as his fist smashed into the scout's face and the scout staggered back in shock. Lancelot opened the door and smirked at the sight of the scout holding his nose and howling in agony. "Don't you think you should have waited to let him know you weren't Roman until after we'd verified the information?"

"Well, it's too late now. And besides, he wouldn't have had a reason to lie, right?"

Lancelot shrugged. "Good point."

Galahad chuckled, and socked Lancelot lightly in the shoulder. "Hey, Lance, what's the only thing smellier than a Roman soldier?"

Lancelot rolled his eyes, asking, "What?"

"Two Roman soldiers. I learned that recently."

"Gal, you're evil."

"Well, Lance, all I can say is that it takes one to know one."

Lancelot rounded on Galahad as the Youngest moved past him. "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"

Galahad tossed over his shoulder as he limped away, "Ask your wife."


	85. Chapter 85

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: I'm BACK! Yay! Anyway, thanks to everyone who is still reading this. It's not done yet, people, so continue to be tuned in. Found my bridesmaids' dresses, thank heavens. So that's one less thing to stress about. Happy Christmas…er, Merry Hanukah…er, Happy New Years? I think I got those right. ;) Miss you guys so much! See you soon with the next chapter!

Chapter Eighty-Five

Morgaine gathered her youngest husband into her arms as he finally staggered into their bedchamber. Speaking in gasping breaths, he started to relay to Gawain the information he'd learned. "Their army is getting ready to reb…," he started, interrupted as Gawain crouched in front of his best friend, touching his shoulder in a measure of comfort, "Galahad. The information can wait. Give yourself a moment to breathe and regroup."

Galahad nodded, crawling gingerly across their bed and dropping onto his side, letting a tiny moan slip through his lips as pain flared through his ribs. Morgaine looked up at Gawain, "Go, Gawain. I'll take care of him and bring him to council when he's been tended to. You're going to need a plan, information or otherwise."

Gawain nodded, palming her shoulders gently. "I love you, my Lady."

"I love you, too, Gawain. Go on," she urged, her eyes slipping closed as his lips pressed a tender kiss to the center of her forehead.

Thirty minutes later, Morgaine came storming into the room where Arthur, his Knights, Connor and his own lieutenants sat making plans. She strode past where Tristan sat next to his wife, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him around the table to where Lancelot was sitting between Arthur and Bergisa. "Ow! Why are you pulling my ear?"

Morgaine threw him to his knees and glared down at him menacingly, her hands on her hips. "Would you like me to pull somewhere else?"

"No, m'lady."

She looked between the two, before drawing her hands back and slapping them both viciously across the topknots. Both let out identical cries, grabbing for their heads. "Lancelot. Tristan. What was the one thing I told you not to do?"

The two Knights glanced at each other, before Tristan spoke up. "We get three chances at this right?"

"Yeah, three chances," she agreed, before leaning down and hissing menacingly, "but the first two don't count."

More than a little cowed of the woman before him, Tristan looked back at his wife for reassurance. Finding none, he turned back to face Morgaine. "Well, I don't quite remember. I recall a threat, but not why I was being threatened," he hedged, trying to understand why Morgaine was so coldly malicious at the moment.

The drumming of her fingers on the back of Bergisa's chair resounded through the room and Tristan, usually so unflappable, could feel the perspiration gathering at the collar of his shirt. "Tristan. Think, really hard."

"Well, I don't really…."

"Tristan."

"Well, you kind of told us not to break Galahad's ribs."

Morgaine nodded, "Do you remember what I said I'd do to you, if you broke his ribs?"

"Well, I…." the chill in Morgaine's eyes made Tristan rethink his statement. "You might have threatened to kill us."

Morgaine nodded, remarking dryly, "Guess what you did, Tristan."

"It's not my fault!" Tristan burst out, "Lancelot is totally incompetent."

"While I don't disagree with you, the fact still remains."

"But, Lancelot…"

"Tristan, shut up."

"Yes, m'lady."

"Your wife is missing you."

"Yes, m'lady."

"Sit down."

"Yes, m'lady," Tristan said, scraping past her and scrambling for his chair.

Turning to look at Lancelot, she leaned down. "What am I going to do with you? You were supposed to make him look beaten, not actually beat him."

"Well, I tried. But Tristan is such an awful teacher."

"I highly doubt that. You're just an inattentive student. Why you thought this was your job is beyond me."

"But, I…. he was going to shoot me!"

"Years ago. He hasn't yet. Although he's tempted, currently."

"Right; thanks for the heads-up there."

"Lance, you're my brother, and I love you dearly," she reassured him, before grabbing his collar and dragging him up so that he was nose to nose with her, "but if you so much as look at him wrong for the rest of the time we're in Ireland, I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, my lady."

"Good," she whispered, her nose scrunching up before she whirled and stormed back from the room.

With a relieved sigh, both Tristan and Lancelot sagged back into their seats. Arthur reached up and slapped Lancelot on the back of the head, causing a cry. "You deserved that. Damaging Galahad is the stupidest thing you've ever done."

"You mean, besides marry my wife."

Bergisa squawked with outrage, before her own hand slapped her husband, getting yet another cry for her trouble. "Pig!" she hissed, before getting up and flouncing from the room in much the same manner Morgaine just had.

Connor, released from the fascinated trance he'd been in at the Sarmatian Princess' display, breathed, "She has you all cowed."

All of the Knights, Arthur included, turned to look at the young Irish Prince. "Yeah, with good reason."

Gawain smiled, commenting, "You've never seen her handle a bow," before Dagonet continued, "Or a dagger," and Lancelot finished, "Or a pair of swords."

"Yeah, she has us all cowed," they all said at the same time.


	86. Chapter 86

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Babak? HandGForever? Where are you guys?

Chapter Eighty-Six

Twenty minutes later, Galahad stumbled into the room. Gawain shot up, just barely reaching his friend before the younger man collapsed. "What are you doing? Why are you out of bed? And does our Lady know you're up?"

"I'm reporting, I'm reporting and no."

Gawain's eyes widened at his best friend, before he shook his head. "She's going to kill you."

Galahad looked at his oldest companion with such longing eyes, that Gawain knew Galahad was up to something. "You wouldn't rat on a guy with broken ribs, would you?"

"Let's see. Have Morgaine find out that I didn't tell her you were out of bed, and end up getting us both slaughtered? Or tell her you're out of bed, and watch you get slaughtered?"

Galahad smiled, "Or, you didn't see anything."

"You're going to get us both killed."

"If anyone's going to get killed, I swear I'll make sure it's Lancelot."

"She's already ready to kill him."

"Perfect; I won't have to do much work. But you need this information, or you're never going to be able to do what you need to do."

Arthur sighed heavily. "Gawain, you might as well sit down. He's being stubborn."

"Must be why he and Morgaine are so well suited. Just make sure I don't go down in flames with you, brother."

"Why? Did she say that's how she'd do it?" Galahad asked worriedly, before catching sight of Gawain's sardonically cocked eyebrow. "Oh, right. Metaphor. I knew that."

"Are you sure it was your ribs that broke?"

Galahad tried to twist his body experimentally, before stopping with a deep wince. "Yeah, pretty sure."

Arthur gestured at a seat. "Well, sit down and tell us what you know. And then it's back to bed. That's an order, Galahad."

Galahad grumbled at being ordered around like a child, before Gawain grabbed his shoulder and steered him for a chair. "We wouldn't treat like a child, if you wouldn't act like one," Gawain muttered. Galahad gave a tiny cry as Gawain gave him a not so gentle shove into his chair. "Ow!" he protested, grabbing at his ribs. "I'm telling Nazneen."

"You really want to die?"

Galahad opened his mouth, before realizing that that threat no longer, in this instance, held its usual sway. "Damn it."

Looking at Arthur, he started to relay in meticulous detail everything he'd learned from the Roman scout. And just as he was standing up to sneak back to bed, Morgaine came sailing in. "Has anyone seen….?" she trailed off at the sight of the very person she was looking for.

Galahad grimaced. "You haven't seen me."

"Are you crazy?" she shouted, stalking toward him furiously.

Arthur, realizing that Galahad was in trouble, jerked as though just noticing Galahad. "Galahad, when did you get here?"

Morgaine rounded furiously on her older brother. "Arthur, don't push it!" Turning back to Galahad, she shoved her finger in his direction, "Galahad, big trouble!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lancelot retreating under the table. "Lance, for once, this isn't your fault. You're not in trouble," she sighed.

Lancelot's head suddenly appeared over the edge of the table. "Really? Great!"

Turning to her eldest husband, Gawain watched as Morgaine's eyes flared with fury. "Gawain, BIGGER trouble!"

"How is this my….." he protested, before sinking back resignedly, "You know what? I just give up." Glaring at Galahad, he hissed, "I told you not to let me go down in flames with you."

"Gawain, get my stubborn husband back to bed. Like, twenty minutes ago." Gawain hesitated, immediately wishing he hadn't done so as Morgaine shouted, "NOW!"

Gawain lunged from his chair, hauling a protesting Galahad over his shoulder and jogging from the room. Morgaine's eyes raked accusingly around the table. "What did you think you were doing? Does 'broken ribs' mean nothing to you?"

Tristan leaned toward his wife, asking quietly, "Is there a right answer to this?"

Somehow Morgaine heard the words meant for Isolde's ears alone and shook her head, her back still to him, "No, Tristan, there's no right answer to this. Leave him be. And if you see him out of bed before the end of the week, carry him back bodily. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, m'lady," came the unanimous agreements from the rest of her Knights.

"Good. Carry on," she said, before limping quickly back toward her bedroom.

Connor started laughing, the second she was out of the room. "And she's not queen, why?"

"Brothers can't marry their sisters," Lancelot remarked sarcastically, as Bors tacked on a drunken, "Especially married ones."

Arthur turned to look at Accolon. "You feel up to a, ah, suicide mission?"

"Well, it depends. You mean, go fetch Galahad and bring him back here?"

Arthur shook his head furiously, "Nothing quite that dangerous. Just infiltrating the Roman camp."

"A few hundred Romans? Lots of armor, swords, daggers, crossbows? A few hundred infantrymen? Maybe some cavalry?" he asked curiously, before nodding with a sadistic smirk, "Sign me up. When do I leave?"

Tristan erupted from his seat, "That's the spirit! You make me proud!"

Dagonet looked at the other silent Knight, before speaking, "Tristan, he's my son. Sit down." Turning back to Accolon, he gave a small smile, "He's right about one thing though."

"What's that, Da?" Accolon asked curiously.

"You do make me proud. Go on, suit up."

Accolon nodded, standing and bowing slightly to the remaining occupants in the room. Turning, he ran from the room. Michelle, frantic for her son, turned to look at her King. "Could you explain to me why you just sent my son on a suicide mission?"

"Michelle, I wouldn't have sent him if I thought he was going to die. You have my word."

Michelle sank back against the back of her seat, "I guess the part where you mentioned a suicide mission threw me off."

"He'll be fine. The rest of us are going to wait for the cavalry."

Catlin looked confused, "Cavalry? I thought you were the cavalry?"

Lancelot laughed, "He means the rest of our army. He means the infantry. The Woad warriors that spent fifteen years trying to kill us."

"Ah, I see. I guess the word cavalry threw me off there."

Michelle glared at the younger woman, looking the smaller woman up and down and deciding on all the different ways she could kill the Irish archer. "You don't like to make friends, do you?" Michelle asked curiously.

Catlin's eyebrows rushed together and she shrugged, "Why do you say that?"

"Because everything you say, alienates someone," Michelle told her, before getting up and leading the other ladies from the room.

Catlin turned to look at Connor, "Are you gonna let her talk to me that way?"

"When she's got a point? Yes."

Arthur looked around the table. "Knights, you're dismissed."

The Knights stood, each bowing shallowly to their king, before they disappeared from the room. Isolde stood outside the cave entrance, waiting for her husband. Tristan smiled at the sight of her, drawing her tenderly into his arms. "Hello, Iso, my dove."

She smiled up at him, one hand coming up to brush at the dark thatch of hair that hung in his face. "Hello, Tristan, my love."

Tristan leaned in to kiss her, before stepping back and offering his wife his arm. "Would you care to take a walk with me?"

Isolde gave her husband such a wide smile, he was almost blinded by her brilliance. "I thought you would never ask."

He smiled down at her, kissing the tip of her nose. The two moved away, just as Arthur and Connor came walking from the room. "He's a cold-hearted killer, isn't he?" Connor asked the older ruler quietly.

"Except in her arms, yes. Tristan is loyal to a fault, and will not hesitate to execute someone who has hurt what he loves."

"Loyalty and love? Those are warm emotions."

Arthur looked down at the boy-king and smiled kindly. "You've never seen him on a battlefield." With that said, Arthur strode off in search of his own wife.


	87. Chapter 87

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Hey ya'll! I'm back, and so soon too! I'm getting better. Life is starting to take a turn for the better! I'm so happy:) Anyway, here's the next chapter. For everyone who's still reading, thanks for sticking with me. Any new readers? Welcome to the party!

Now on with the show!

Chapter Eighty-Seven

A week after Accolon left Sanctuary, Connor and Molly were talking. Well, Molly was listening, Connor was talking. "Do you even see her?" he asked after the fifth, or fifty-fifth, topic change since they'd sat down several hours before.

Molly looked up from where she was polishing her daggers. "Who?"

"Their crazy Princess."

"Don't let one of the Knights hear you say that. Our allies will quickly become our enemies. Why do you ask?"

"She has her fingers in every piece of the Briton pie. Royal Matchmaker, Chief Advisor, Princess, wife to two husbands -both of whom happen to be Knights and powerful Lords in Arthur's court- as well as the mother to four children. Need I say more?"

"It just proves that they trust her. She's an integral part of their lives."

"Runs everything, is more like it."

"What she does is sets events in motion, and the players act out the scenes from there. She's a master director. Connor, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. She's very clever."

"Well, I don't think she's survived as long as she has in their world by being stupid."

"Well, she may have met her match in Ireland. I'm onto her, Molly."

"Onto her, how?"

"She's not going to marry me off. Nope, not ever. I'm never marrying."

Inside, Molly's heart shriveled a bit, but she refused to let Connor know that. "Why do you think she's trying to marry you off? You're paranoid Connor."

"Oh, no, ask any of the Britons. All of the marriages among the Knights, were arranged. So, I'm assuming that that's what she does."

"Most of the Knights married women they loved."

"What about Tristan?"

"If you can't tell how much that scout truly adores his bride, Connor, either you're stupid or you're blind."

"All right, Dagonet?"

"Same applies. Stupid, or blind."

"Lancelot! I've got you there! Those two are always at each other's throats."

"And involved in a loud bout of make-up sex afterwards. Connor, you're stuck."

"So what are you telling me, all of their matches are perfect?"

"For each Knight, they have been perfectly paired."

"Ah ha! See! That's very suspicious, don't you think?"

"No, that sounds very observant. She took specific traits from the Knights she serves, and then she paired them with wives that would be able to compliment and accommodate these traits. Lancelot, for example. The man is a hopeless rogue, and a rake, and a flirt. But his wife is strong-willed, defiant and stubborn, all three of which combined serve to turn her husband on more than any other woman ever will. She won't ever be completely his, which is why he stays faithful. He's waiting for that day, when she will be."

"So it doesn't seem even a little suspicious?"

"No, Connor. Not even a little."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded slightly, giving him a hopeless smile. "Yes, Connor, I'm sure. You know, I think my Da was looking for you earlier this morning."

"Really? I should go and find the old man, then."

"I'm serious, Connor, you're going to get killed if he ever hears you call him 'old man' one of these days."

Connor grinned at his lover cheekily, before kissing her cheek. "Thanks for listening, Molly."

She rolled her eyes at him, waving him away. "It's what I'm here for, Connor. You know that. Go on, before my da starts getting frustrated."

He nodded, jogging away. Morgaine appeared from around a corner moments later, smiling at the young lieutenant. "Good eventide, Molly."

Molly looked up, scrambling to her feet at the sight of the Dark Child standing there, "Your Highness," she gasped, before dropping into a clumsy curtsy.

Morgaine waved her to sit. "Don't curtsy to me, child. I am not your princess, and my name is Morgaine, not 'Your Highness' all right?"

Molly nodded, watching as Morgaine settled her tiny form on the stone bench beside the fountain across from her. Her eyes were wise and smiling as she studied the younger woman, studiously polishing her blades. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Molly's eyes snapped up, She meeting Morgaine's dead on. "What?"

"You're in love with him, your prince, aren't you?"

"I have been in love with Connor for a long time now. That will probably never change."

Morgaine leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. "What would you say if I told you that I could procure him as your husband within the month?"

"I'd say you were mad."

Morgaine laughed. "Now you sound like my brother, Lancelot. He had the same misgivings about Bergisa. Trying to get them to admit that they were madly in love with each other was like trying to pull teeth bare-handed; gruesome and ineffective. Connor is infatuated with you, and more than a little in love."

Molly's eyes narrowed. "Just how much of our conversation did you hear?"

"Connor is right about one thing. I have my fingers in every pie. It's because of what I am that allows me that amount of freedom."

"What are you? Exactly?"

Morgaine smiled, her eyes shining like a hunter's on a hunt. "Sneaky. Manipulative. Clever. And not above bribing people to get what I want. Do you want to know how to procure Connor for your own?"

Molly nodded, "Desperately."

"I can help you get him. I'm good at arranging marriages. But I need you to be completely with me on this. Are we agreed?"

"I will do anything to make him mine and mine alone."

"That's what I like to hear. Now listen carefully child. The secret to attracting the man you're attracted to is simple. Flirt with other men."


	88. Chapter 88

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Hey, all my faithful readers, I love you guys. You guys are fabulous. Keep reading, okay? This story isn't over yet.

Chapter Eighty-Eight

The next night was the celebratory Feast of Brigit, an Irish goddess. Morgaine enlisted the help of Bergisa and together the two women dolled up Molly with their combined skills. When they were done, they took a step back and nodded at the transformation. "You're beautiful, child," Morgaine assured the young woman, before stepping forward to slip a white rose into the elaborate coif of her hair. "If Connor doesn't notice you tonight, we will be forced to take drastic measures."

Molly blushed, looking toward the ground. She wore one of Bergisa's own gowns, a gauzy article of clothing that hugged all of her curves and the whiteness of which emphasized her burnished beauty. A white veil was pinned into her upswept hair, and her feet were bare as per required. With roses in her hair, she was truly beautiful. "Go on, Molly. We'll join you in moments."

Molly nodded, dropping two quick curtsies, one to each woman, before scampering happily from the room. Bergisa sat Morgaine onto the stool that Molly had just vacated and set about completing her best friend's own hair. "You're plotting, Morg."

"Of course, I'm plotting, Gisa. Connor is in love with her. I don't make such good marriages without knowing my players. I heard about Claire, and I think the only reason he's so reluctant to fall in love and find a bride is that he fears Claire's fate will be visited upon the next woman he loves. But from what I've heard of the Lady Claire, she was delicate. Flowerlike. She was in no ways the sturdy and strong woman that Molly is. Molly would suit a warrior prince like Connor very well, just as Guinevere suits our very own warrior-king well. Rulers who rely on strength to keep order need strong wives at their sides. Guinevere is such a woman; Molly is another."

Bergisa smiled, finishing with Morgaine's veil before kissing her forehead. "Just don't get burned by your own fire, Morgaine."

"I won't, Bergisa. This couldn't be going any better than if I had written the script and told both players what to say."

Bergisa smiled and grabbed the ornately topped staff that Morgaine had opted to use that night instead of her ugly old cane. "Are you ready to do this? This is an unknown ritual."

"It's actually very similar to the Festivals that the Woads used to have. When we get back home, I should get together with my father and arrange for one. It's been too long since we last a Festival. They're a part of Britain's culture and background. We cannot forsake them now." Bergisa nodded, watching Morgaine push herself to her feet. "Let's go Bergisa. Our adoring public awaits us."

"You mean your adoring husbands and my own arrogant pig?"

"Well, them too. Come on, Gisa, it'll be a fun evening if you let it be."

Bergisa looped her arm through Morgaine's. "With the entertainment you intend to provide in the form of Connor and Molly, I have no doubt that tonight will be a night to remember."

Morgaine smiled up at her best friend, before the two left their room and entered Sanctuary. Meanwhile Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot were standing off to the side, waiting for their wives. All three knew that where Bergisa was, Morgaine would surely be, and vice versa. Galahad was sipping on drugged ale, the herbs in the drink dulling the pain of his ribs somewhat, while he watched their Irish allies dance. "Do you think this is wise?" Gawain asked Lancelot, his eyes scanning the crowd for the twentieth time, searching for some form of threat.

"Do I think what is wise?"

"Celebrating before the battle has even begun."

"They're hardly celebrating. This is a common feast, held every year on this night. Let them have their feast."

Galahad set down his mug just then, causing them to turn toward him. Moments later, the action was explained as Morgaine practically sailed into his arms. Bergisa smiled at her husband as he gave her a low bow, earning a deep curtsy in return. "Well, how are you gentlemen enjoying the evening?"

Gawain leaned to kiss Morgaine's temple as Galahad answered the Dark Child. "It's been abysmal without you, Nazneen."

Her smile blinded him as Connor approached the group. He looked disgruntled and genuinely perturbed. Morgaine privately rejoiced as she noticed Molly talking to a young man by the name of Colin. Whom Morgaine had paid handsomely to court the beautiful lieutenant. Connor's eyes blazed as he questioned the Sarmatian Princess harshly, "Did you have something to do with this, Your Highness?"

Galahad's eyes narrowed, one hand drifting to the dagger at his belt. "I don't think I like your tone, Princeling," he hissed, Gawain behind him nodding in agreement.

Morgaine's hands on her husbands' arms were placating as she replied to Connor's questions. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Your Highness. Would you care to elaborate?"

"That! Molly's flirting with Colin."

"I don't see a problem. Molly's a beautiful young woman. I don't see why she shouldn't have a suitor. Surely you don't plan to see her unloved and unwed all her whole life. Colin would suit her well for a husband, I think. He would love her as she deserves to be loved."

"I love her!" Connor burst out, incensed.

Morgaine's lips curved wickedly at the confession and the wondering look on his face. "Ah, but Connor, have you ever told her that?" Tugging lightly on Galahad's arm, she pouted prettily. "I want to dance, Sarmatian."

"Are you sure your leg can handle that, Lady?" Gawain asked quickly. Galahad nodded, grimacing slightly, "Or my ribs?"

"Please Sarmatian? Dance with me?"

Galahad nodded with a soft smile. "All right, Nazneen. Lead the way."

She giggled and moved as quickly as she could toward the rest of the dancing couples. Gawain hid a smile behind his ale goblet as Bergisa and Lancelot followed his Lady and best friend. "If you'll excuse me, Your Highness?" Gawain chuckled, with a shallow bow, before moving off toward Arthur and Guinevere.

Later that night, Colin and Molly returned from the grove of trees outside the firelight. There, they had come up with a plan to lure Connor and were now going to put the plan in action. Colin approached the band, Molly following at his side with her hand held in his. The band saw him coming and quieted at his gesture. Leaping up onto the stage, he lifted Molly up next to him. "Ladies and gentlemen! Honored guests! I have a happy announcement to make. The Lady Molly has accepted my proposal of marriage and we expect to be married within the week. You are all, of course, invited to attend."

There was a chorus of cheers from everyone but Connor. He stared at Molly in horror, his jaw have dropped open a bit in shock. As Colin and Molly accepted congratulations, Connor approached Fergus. "Did you know about this?"

Fergus had agreed to help the Sarmatian Princess help his daughter and nodded now, though the announcement was as much a shock to him as Connor. "He asked me for her hand first, Connor."

"And you gave your permission?"

"Of course. Colin MacKinney is a good man. A good soldier," Fergus said, smiling a little as the Dark Child's plan became clear to him.

"But I love her!" Connor protested.

"You had your chance, Connor. Now you must stand aside and let the lass be happy," Fergus reminded him, before clapping the young prince on the shoulder and striding off to congratulate his daughter on her faux engagement.

Connor stood where he'd been left, staring through the crowd at Molly. She stood smiling beside her "fiancé" accepting congratulations graciously. She had never looked so lovely in all the time that Connor had known her. Turning on his heel, he stormed toward his own room.

Morgaine stood between her husbands, watching him go, "You think I'll have to lock them in a room together?" she asked rhetorically, reminding them of the extremes that she had gone to, to ensure that Lancelot and Bergisa wed.

"I doubt it, Lady," Gawain laughed, before Galahad added his vote, "They're pretty much falling into your trap, Nazneen."

"It's not a trap, Sarmatian," she scolded, swiping at him fondly.

"Of course not, Nazneen. Come. It's late. And I'd like to seek our bed, if that all right with the two of you."

Galahad chuckled as Morgaine seemed to give her answer with a large yawn. "I think that's the cue to find our bed. Lead on, Gal."

The other man nodded, each of them taking one of Morgaine's hands. Together, they led the exhausted Dark Child to their room. They helped her out of her intricate gown and into her bed, before each disrobed and climbed in alongside her. They took up their usual sleeping positions; Gawain pressed up against Morgaine's back with Galahad on his back in front of her, all three of them linked at the hands. Heaving a great sigh, Morgaine fell quietly to sleep. The two men held her in their hearts for a moment before they too slipped away into dreams.


	89. Chapter 89

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Hey guys, I'm sorry it's been so long! It's just been a hard month. I am sad to announce that my fiancé and I have canceled our engagement. Understandably, I took some time off from writing to get myself back in order, but I'm back and hope to get back into the swing of things. Let me know what you think, okay?

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Several mornings later, Sanctuary woke to the sound of arguing. Though the combatants came as a bit of a surprise to everyone. It wasn't Lancelot or Bergisa, or even Arthur and his Lieutenant. The man and woman shouting at each other proved to be the Briton King and the Sarmatian Princess.

It was the second fight the two siblings had ever had in the fifteen years since Arthur and Morgaine had taken each other as "siblings in fire." The Knights stared at King and Princess in shock, though Galahad and Gawain had been dreading this very argument for weeks. "Arthur! You're being unreasonable!"

"Unreasonable? What's UNREASONABLE about wanting to keep you safe?"

"I'm a warrior, Arthur, just like you. You can't deny that."

"You were a warrior, Rhiannon. And I have great respect for the battles you fought alongside me in the past years. But you were kidnapped, and when you returned from Constantinople, you returned with a limp and the inability to walk for long distances. You're not going into battle without that ability. You'd be a liability and you'd get yourself killed. And I think we've seen the kind of devastation that occurs when we Knights think that you are dead. I won't risk your life, Sister, no! My answer is final. This conversation is over."

"I'm a big girl. And I'm a better shot with a bow than anyone. Even Galahad! And they don't call Galahad 'Ace' for no reason."

"Morgaine, I said no! Unless you can go 48 hours without a single stumble, the answer will remain no. That's final!"

Morgaine's blue eyes seemed to flash silver before she turned on her heel and stormed away, energy crackling along her skin like fire. Even Tristan launched out of her way, reluctant to stand between the Dark Child and her escape. Bergisa's eyes flashed to her husband's, getting an affirming nod, before racing off after her best friend. Gawain cocked an eyebrow at his king. "Do you really think that accomplished anything?"

"Do you think that letting her get herself killed will accomplish anything?" Arthur snapped back.

Galahad spoke up. "No, but Morgaine's right. There's none that can outshoot her. And I've been trying to for years. And few can outfight her. She's not a novice to the art of war."

"I won't risk it," Arthur insisted, starting to walk away before stopping and turning back. "And if you two help her in anyway get on that battlefield under my nose, any punishment you received while still in the service of Rome will seem like a slap on the wrist. Am I understood?"

Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other quickly, before both turned back to Arthur, their hands fisted over their hearts as they bowed, "Aye, Sire."

Arthur nodded sharply, and stormed in the opposite direction of his sister, his cloak fluttering like wings on an avenging dragon behind him. He shouted over his shoulder, "I won't lose her, again!"

Gawain absently rubbed at his left arm, feeling the deep scars there, as Galahad grinned at his best friend. "So I'll raid the armory and you'll find Morgaine?"

Gawain shuddered lightly. "I barely kept my arm last time, Galahad, so whatever plan you're coming up with? The answer is no. Didn't you hear him? Arthur has broken your cheekbone, and I nearly lost my arm to the Romans."

"That's because the Romans were cruel, and you were a boy. Arthur said that if she could go 48 hours without stumbling, he'd allow it. All we have to do is help her get the strength in her leg up. We all coddle her, try to make sure she doesn't put too much weight on it. We haven't been doing her any favors by doing so. Morgaine is a warrior. She's a Woad, and she wears her tattoos proudly. We're her husbands. She needs our help."

"You want to deliberately defy our King by helping our Lady?"

"No. I want to help Nazneen do what Arthur himself insisted on. Come on, Gawain, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Obviously not in the room. Did you even see her? She's blazing a trail of fire through Sanctuary. If I approached her, she'd probably behead me."

"That's why you're the perfect one to go after her. Morgaine and I feel everything passionately, which is why you are usually the one with the task of talking us down. Come on, Gawain, help me please?"

Gawain watched his brother-in-arms warily before giving a heavy sigh. "Just make sure you grab a pair of swords. And that's they're identical and light enough for Morgaine to heft."

"I brought both of her blades from home. The ones that Lance gave her all those years ago."

"You know that we can't let Arthur know, right?"

"Of course, Gawain, give me some credit."

Gawain rolled his eyes. "Meet us in the stables, with the swords, and her trousers and tunic."

Galahad grinned. "I'm crazy, brother, not stupid."

Turning on his heel, the Youngest strode away confidently toward their chamber. Gawain shook his head and went to find their wife. He found her by the trees, ranting and raging against Arthur's mandate. Having only seen his beloved Morgaine loose her temper once, he took a moment to watch her fury. It only made her more beautiful.

Her normally navy eyes were like quicksilver, snapping and bubbling with an intense fury. The wind whipped through her black hair, causing it to fly about her head. Her hands were clenching and unclenching at her sides as she paced back and forth. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever -and would ever- see.

Stepping into the sunlight, he spoke softly, "Lady."

She whirled to face him, spitting fire. "What do you want?" she hissed, drawing back from his comforting touch.

Gawain stopped where he was at the motion, knowing that he wouldn't be able to touch her until she had calmed, though that she had withdrawn from him hurt like hell. "Galahad and I are going to help you Lady. Arthur said you could go to battle, if you didn't stumble."

"I think he was being facetious, Gawain."

"But he still said it. And Arthur has always stood by his word." Coming another step forward, he asked kindly, "Lady, what could it hurt?"

"My pride," she snapped cruelly, before slumping back against the tree. "I'm sorry, Gawain. That's not fair to you." Sighing, she closing her eyes before allowing a soft chuckle, "My Sarmatian came up with this idea, didn't he?"

"He's the crazy one," the blond Knight reminded her with a soft smile.

The Dark Child nodded with a deep sigh. "All right, Gawain. I'll give it a try."

Gawain smiled at her, before reaching slowly to take her hand and lead her back to the stables. Galahad had already saddled Dar and Brute, and was tightening the girth about Mary-Megan's middle. Punching the horse lightly in the gut, the mare released the air she'd held in her belly with a grunt, allowing Galahad to tighten the saddle completely. Morgaine looked confused. "Where are we going, Sarmatian?"

"We can't let Arthur know about this, Morgaine."

Her eyes narrowed. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like the answer to this question. "Why not?"

"We'll explain later. In the meantime however, Molly told me about a copse of trees a few minutes ride from here. We could practice there."

"Well then, let's go for a ride."

Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other, before Gawain's large hands slipped around Morgaine's tiny waist and lifted her effortlessly into her saddle. Morgaine lifted the reins, patting the mare's neck tenderly as both of her husbands also mounted up. Galahad kicked Dar lightly in the ribs, the three horses galloping freely from the stables, out of Sanctuary and into the forest.

Once there, Morgaine changed into her trousers and tunic as Galahad set up a target. "I think you should just practice archery for a while, before you get to swords. You need to be steady on your feet before we can practice swordplay again. The backlash on the bow will force your body to keep its balance, and rebuild the strength in that leg. Is that all right?"

"You're the Knights. You'd know how to do this best," Morgaine reminded them, before planting her feet and drawing back the arrow notched in her bow.

Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other, before starting to strip out of their tunics and shirts. Drawing their blades, they sparred together as Morgaine shot arrow after arrow. Nearly two hours later, the three sat to eat. Morgaine's eyes caught once again on the scars around Gawain's left bicep. "What happened, Gawain? You've never told me. It' doesn't look like a battle wound."

"It's not. It was a punishment. Before we were with Arthur, we were at a kind of Roman boot-camp for several years, trained to fight and kill. Gareth was really sick, throwing up and burning with fever, and so he'd missed the muster call that morning. As a punishment, they locked him in his room with no supper."

Morgaine's eyes narrowed in horror. As a healer, she knew that the most important thing to do for someone unable to keep anything in their stomach was force them to eat. Even if they threw it all up again, at least there was something to throw up. And some of the nutrients in the food made it into the body, keeping the body marginally nourished at least. "What happened for you to get those scars?"

Gawain sighed, leaning back on the "I ended up stealing something for Gareth to eat and got caught. They tied me up too tightly. I almost lost the arm."

Morgaine cocked an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Basically. There's nothing else to tell. I never got into trouble again."

"Seriously? You never did something you knew you weren't supposed to?"

"No, I did everything I knew I wasn't supposed to. I just didn't caught. It's only wrong if you get caught."

"Good point. So why can't Arthur know about this?"

"Remember how I said that that was a punishment? Well, Arthur said that if we helped you, any punishment the Romans dished out will look like child's play compared to what Arthur will do to us."

Morgaine nodded silently, sipping on the cool, clear water from the brook beside them. "All right. So we don't tell Arthur."


	90. Chapter 90

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Two chapter because you guys were so patient with me! Thank you for that, I appreciate it and I look forward to hearing from you all. In a timely manner this time maybe, Babak? It took a month to get your review! (j/k)

Chapter Ninety

As the weeks progressed, the women planned Molly's wedding, while the men persisted in their guerilla warfare against the Roman camp. The Knights' wives were more than happy to engage in Morgaine's deception, surprising Molly with the depths of their loyalty to the Dark Child herself. On one such occasion, Molly stood in the middle as Guinevere, Bergisa and Vanora fitted one of Bergisa's old gowns to her lithe body for her wedding gown. "So, if all goes to plan, Connor will stop the wedding," Guinevere said, looking at Bergisa for confirmation.

"Everything will go according to plan. And if it doesn't, Molly has the right to stop the wedding. She doesn't have to marry Colin if she doesn't want to."

Molly shifted slightly and Vanora pinched the young lieutenant lightly. "Stop fidgeting, girl. You're as restless as a magpie."

Molly whirled away from the three women, flouncing into a seat. "Is this going to work?"

Bergisa smiled, coming to sit beside the girl. "Have I ever told you the hell it took for Lancelot and I to get married?"

"No," Molly said, confused by the sharp turn of events.

Bergisa nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "If Lancelot and I can get married despite two years of despising each other's guts, and be as in love as we are, then there is nothing that could possibly stand in yours and Connor's way. Everything will work out. I promise."

Molly nodded, resting her head on the older woman's shoulder. "How much do you trust her?"

Guinevere's eyebrows furrowed as she inquired, "Morgaine?"

"Yes, your princess," Molly agreed, looking up at the Briton Queen pleadingly.

"Morgaine has been my husband's stalwart advisor since before I ever met him. He adores her and her feelings for him are along the same lines. She has never steered him wrong, and she wouldn't do it to you either." Guinevere insisted, touching her head gently.

Vanora nodded, picking up from there, "Morgaine is a integral part of the Knights' lives. They all love her and would protect her from anything. And the feeling is mutual. Morgaine will protect them from everything she can. Even themselves."

Bergisa laughed lightly. "Which is why Galahad and Gawain are currently helping her gain the strength to fight this battle. She has saved their lives on many battlefields, and I wouldn't feel as comfortable about them going to war, unless she was with them. Morgaine cares about everyone, and she usually carries the weight of the world. Don't worry, child. Morgaine will take good care of you. You have my word."

Molly nodded with a heavy sigh, before standing and moving to the platform again. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome. Now stop fidgeting and we'll get this done."

Meanwhile all of the Knights, except for Galahad and Gawain, were meeting with Connor, Catlin and Fergus. "Where the hell are Galahad and Gawain?" Arthur asked, frustrated that he was forced to wait for his two Knights to arrive.

Lancelot shrugged, "I don't know. They -and Morgaine- are missing. They've been missing since this morning."

"The three of them have been going missing quite a bit lately, Arthur," Tristan informed his king, watching Arthur's eyes blaze. "I don't know what it is that they're doing or where they're going. Morgaine has the skills to lose me, and I usually get lost."

Arthur nodded, moving to the window cut in the rock to look out over Sanctuary. "Don't they know we're in the middle of a war!"

Bors spoke up. "They have their reasons for disappearing, Arthur. And they have always been loyal to you. They would not betray your confidence now. We must trust that they are doing what they must."

Dagonet nodded, "It is possible that they are spying on the camp. Galahad has a gift at spying, has since he was still a kid. Gawain and Morgaine are probably only going along to keep an eye out for him."

Tristan shook his head. "They always go heavily armed. That's not it."

Arthur whirled away from the window and turned to look at Tristan. "I don't care how long it takes, find out what they are doing."

Morgaine arrived at the door just then, straight and strong. She was dressed for battle, her kilt and brassiere molding as cleanly to her as they always had. A long black cloak flapped about her body as she glided into the room. There was no limp to her step, her stride as effortless as though her feet did not touch the floor. Fire blazed in her twilight eyes, bringing the stars into the mirthless depths. Her hair was the same color of a raven's wings, flying unfettered and wild about her shoulders. Gone was the Court Advisor and mild mother of four. In her place was a warrior, the Heir of Merlin and leader of his armies. "I heard you were looking for us, Brother?" she asked, in a sardonic tone, as she and her husbands stopped across the table from where Arthur sat.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

Morgaine smiled slightly. "I've been sparring with my husbands. I don't stumble, or trip, or limp. Allow me to prove it. I'll spar against any Knight you choose. And when I have proven it, I will be going to war with you."

"What nonsense are you spouting? I said no, Morgaine."

"Do not go back on your word now, Arthur," Morgaine hissed, her eyes fixed on her brother's.

She never flinched as Arthur approached her. "All right, Morgaine, you'll fight whichever Knight would like to take the challenge against you. And it won't be either of your husbands. If you lose…the answer is no, and it will be final."

"Perfectly, Arthur. I will not lose."

Lancelot grinned at his sister, watching her stand strong and proud. "I'll take a crack at her, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, gesturing toward the three empty chairs where she and her husbands were wont to take their seats. "All right, after the meeting. But first, let's make plans. The wedding will be tomorrow. After which time, Accolon should be returning to us, with important information about the Roman camp."

"When will my people get here?" Morgaine asked, watching her brother solemnly.

"They should be here within the next two weeks. We continue guerilla warfare until they arrive, and then we take out the camp. Are we agreed? Connor?"

"How many men do you have?" Connor inquired, leaning forward on his elbows.

Arthur chuckled. "I have an army of nine thousand strong, every man and woman of which hates the Romans with a passion for what they did to their Princess. You have nothing to fear, Connor. You have my word."

Morgaine nodded. "And healers? I should start to train any who have a proficiency at healing. Molly included."

Connor looked curious, "Why Molly?"

"She's a Druid, is she not?"

Fergus nodded, answering for Connor, "A novice, but yes."

"All right then. From what I've learned about the Druids, if trained, they possess great talent with the sick and the injured. I can train her.

Arthur nodded. "Agreed. Morgaine, gather what women you want and begin training them in the art of healing. Otherwise, Knights, start practicing. Spar whenever you can. Galahad, you and Tristan get back to the pits. Perfect your aim. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sire," the Knights replied, bowing slightly to their King.

"Knights, you're dismissed. Galahad. Gawain. Not you."

The two Knights nodded, staying behind as all of the Knights but Lancelot filed from the room. Morgaine stayed stubbornly in her chair, her eyes blazing defiantly at her brother as he moved to order her out. "Don't even think about it, Arthur. I am staying."

Arthur glowered, before turning to the two Knights. "Are you two mad?"

Galahad shook his head. "Morgaine is a warrior, Arthur. You cannot stop her. She wears the tattoos, same as the rest of her people. You said something to give her hope. We just indulged it."

"We can't lose her," Gawain said, his eyes steady. "We'll make sure she stays alive. But we could not, in good conscience, support your plan to deny her the battlefield. She will be safe and she will be protected. But she will be there."

Arthur turned to look at Morgaine. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking now what I thought nearly 10 years ago. I'm not gonna let you die," she hissed, pushing out of her chair and coming to stand in front of her brother. "I know you want to protect me. But I want to protect you too."

Arthur looked into his sister's eyes, seeing her determination and her resolve. His hands came up to cup her cheeks and he rested his forehead against hers. "All right. I don't like this, but there's nothing I can do about it. The fight will be tomorrow after Molly's wedding. Beat Lance, and I'll allow it. Just promise me that you will remain safe and protected. And that you won't do something reckless and leave your husbands' sights."

"I promise, Arthur," Morgaine agreed, throwing her arms around her brother's waist in thanks. "Thank you. I won't fail you."

"I'm not worried about you failing me, Rhiannon, I'm worried about failing you."

Morgaine shook her head against her brother's chest. "You could never fail me. You don't have it in you."

Arthur pulled back, taking her face gently in his palms and kissing her forehead. "Go and prepare for your challenge. Lance is probably dying for some payback."

Morgaine nodded, going up onto tiptoes to kiss her brother's cheek, before running out with her husbands on her heels. Lancelot glanced at Arthur, watching in concern as his best friend sank back into his seat wearily. "You've done the right thing, Arthur."

Arthur looked up at his trusted lieutenant and sighed. "Then why do I think that this will end badly?"

"Because you worry about her. And you don't want anything to happen to her. But Morgaine can take care of herself. She's strong and she's resilient. And she's saved our lives more times than any of us can count. She'll be safe. None of us would let anything happen to her."

Arthur nodded again, taking a sip of his wine and slipping into silence. Lancelot sensed that his best friend was seeking peace, as well as friendship, and took a seat at the table, the two men drinking in silent companionship.


	91. Chapter 91

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Thanks to the two of you who read and reviewed. It made my heart happy. I will do everything I can to post more often than I have been, I promise. Here's the next chapter.

Chapter Ninety-One

The next morning, the women assisted Molly in preparing for her wedding. Morgaine touched Molly's cheek. "Relax, child. You're fine. Connor will do as is expected of him. I promise."

Molly nodded. "I hope so."

Morgaine pressed her cheek against the younger woman's and left to check on the "groom," Connor. She found Connor sitting alone in the chamber where the men were wont to have their councils. "What are you doing in here? Your friend, Molly, is getting married today."

"I can't watch her say 'I do' to a man who is not me," he lamented, taking a long drag on his wine bottle.

She sighed; the Irish Prince was more than a little inebriated. "Didn't you know you could protest?" Morgaine questioned, smiling at his surprised look. Silently, she thanked herself that she had gone to find him. "There is a section in the vows where the priestess will inquired as to whether or not anyone objects. And if you love her, Connor -which I know you do- you can object."

Just then the chanting of the Druids began downstairs, signaling that the wedding was beginning. "Well, go on, Connor. If you want her, you have to speak up for her."

"She loves Colin."

"No, she loves you. She's marrying Colin because you told her you'd never marry. She's resigned herself to a loveless marriage, because she can't have you. Go on. Claim her and make her yours."

Connor nodded, standing unsteadily. Morgaine rolled her eyes, slipping under his arm. "Come along, Princeling. Let's stop Molly from making a big mistake."

Connor nodded, letting the Sarmatian Princess lead him from the room. At the doorway to the room where the ceremony was coming to a close. The priestess had already moved past the point where she asked if there were any objections. Colin had already recited his vows, and the priestess was leading Molly through her own. She recited them obediently, but her eyes kept flitting to the back door to her left. "Do you, Colin, Man and Warrior, take this woman as your wife?" the priestess asked the Celt, getting a firm and clear, "I do," in reply.

Turning to Molly, she inquired, "Do you, Molly, Woman and Druid, take this man as your husband?"

Molly hesitated noticeably, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The priestess glanced at Colin and then back to Molly. "Well, do you?" Molly hesitated again and the priestess spoke once more, "Do you, Molly…"

"I heard you," she snapped, glancing frantically toward the back door again. Connor still stood, his own hesitation finally driving Morgaine to take her own measures. Pulling a thin, tiny blade from the pocket of her dress, she stabbed him, low in the thigh. "I object!" he shouted, one hand flying to the wound, before he glared down at the Sarmatian Princess, hissing, "Ow!"

"Get up there and stop being stupid," Morgaine ordered, shoving him bodily toward the dais.

Molly turned to face him, noting his red-rimmed eyes and his heavily limping stride. Tristan alone noted that the stagger was due not only to drunkenness but a tiny wound in his thigh. Turning back, he eyed Morgaine, who put on her most innocent look as if to say, "I didn't do anything."

Turning back to Connor, Tristan began to mentally examine the wound, force of thrust, angle of entry. His hands moved slightly in the action of stabbing someone, obviously trying to act out the incident. Morgaine shook her head and stepped to stand beside him, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, "Tristan, I stabbed him. Stop trying to analyze it."

"Just so we're clear on that," he said gruffly, his own hand rising to squeeze his Princess' hand fondly.

She smiled, sliding into the seat between Galahad and Gawain behind him. Connor strode toward the front, his eyes fixed on Molly's. Stepping up onto the dais, he swung her around to face him and pulled her up for a hard kiss. When they drew apart, Molly struggled to regain her breath. "I cannot let you marry him, Molly, not when I love you."

Molly reached up, touching his face gently. "Say it again. Tell me you love me again."

"Molly, I love you."

Molly's eyes were wet as she admitted, "I love you, Connor."

Connor pulled her up again, kissing her with every fiber in his soul. Colin turned back to look at the Sarmatian Princess, getting a small nod of encouragement. Turning to the priestess, he spoke quietly, "Priestess, if you wouldn't mind joining these two in marriage?"

The priestess nodded, heaving a great sigh, before turning to the kissing couple. "Molly?"

Molly broke away from Connor, looking up at the priestess dazed. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Is this the groom on your wedding day?"

Molly looked up at Connor, her lips curved into a wide and beautiful smile, her eyes wet with tears. "Yes, Priestess, this is who I wish to spend my life with."

"Connor, is this the bride you wish to keep always?"

Connor nodded, not tearing his eyes from Molly's own. "I would take this woman as my wife, Priestess."

The priestess nodded, watching as Colin disembarked from the platform, allowing Connor to take his place. "Excellent. Let's try this again, shall we? Do you, Prince Connor of Eire, Man and Ruler, take this woman to be your wife, no matter what shall befall you both? Do you take her burdens as your own, her tears as your own, her life as your own?"

"I do, Priestess," he replied, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from Molly's chocolate eyes.

"Do you, Lady Molly of Eire, Woman and Druid, take this man to be your husband, no matter what shall befall you both? Do you take his burdens as your own, his tears as your own, his life as your own?"

"I do, Priestess," Molly confirmed, smiling up at Connor with tears in her eyes.

"Then by the power vested in me and by the power I hold in my hands, I name you husband and wife. Your Highness, you may kiss your bride."

The crowd cheered as Connor pulled Molly up to his lips, kissing her passionately in front of all their witnesses. Morgaine looked up at Galahad, smiling at him happily. "This seems familiar."

"Reminds me of a few other weddings," he teased, kissing her nose fondly. Looking over her head at his best friend, the two Knights exchanged smiles. Morgaine had proved her point again, marrying off yet another unsuspecting warrior to a bride perfectly suited to him.

Gawain chuckled, "Point to our Lady. What's the score now?"

"Eight to me. None to the grooms. I'd say I'm on a winning streak," she laughed, burrowing into her husbands' arms, letting the memory of their own weddings play through her mind. Lancelot glanced at Bergisa, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, "For a second, I thought that Morgaine's plan wasn't going to work." Bergisa looked up at her husband horrified, before he continued with a self-conscious laugh, "I should have known better."

Bergisa smiled, "She managed to marry us. These two were a walk in the park." When the couple finally broke apart, it was to the sound of cheering and the sudden appearance of the wives as they descended on the newly-married young couple to congratulate them on their marriage.

Galahad and Gawain sighed, leaning back against the wall companionably. Fergus joined them seconds later. Gawain glanced at him with a small smile curving his lips. "I believe I told you to hide your daughter unless you wanted her married off."

"And I believe _I_ mentioned that she might find a wife for your Princeling," Galahad remarked, hiding his smile by ducking his head.

Fergus laughed, nodding, "How ironic is it that both things were accomplished with the same union?"

"Rhiannon gets what she wants. That's the way it's always been," Arthur commented, coming to stand with the three men.

Galahad chuckled, nodding. "Even if what she wants means that she has to manipulate and connive to get it. Take it from three of the four men who know her best."

Fergus nodded, watching his daughter accept the congratulations of the crowd. "I haven't seen my daughter this happy in a long time. I will be forever grateful to your princess for what she's done. She has made my daughter very happy."

Arthur nodded, watching as Morgaine drew away from the group of women, turning to look at them. "She's an amazing woman, my sister. She wants nothing more than for our world to be safe and happy for those that live in it."

"And most of us are happy when she's happy," Guinevere remarked, joining the conversation then. Looking up at her husband, she smiled into his eyes. "I love you, Arthur. This is a wedding. Dance with me."

Arthur bowed to his wife, taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the wrist. "Absolutely, my love."

Guinevere smiled up at him, accepting his tender kiss, before letting him lead her onto the dance floor. Tristan and Bergisa were standing with Morgaine, laughing happily together. Galahad and Gawain exchanged looks, before moving toward them. A tiny hand on Gawain's elbow brought him to a sharp stop. "Uncle Gawain?" came Ben's tiny voice.

Gawain looked at Galahad with a sigh. "Go on. I'll be right behind you."

Galahad nodded, ruffling the little boy's hair before striding toward Morgaine. Gawain dropped to his knees, meeting Ben's eyes fondly. "What's wrong, Ben?"

Ben nibbled on his lower lip, before leaning forward and whispering in Gawain's ear. "There's news, Uncle," Ben murmured, looking for the world like he was going to cry.


	92. Chapter 92

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Where is everyone?

Chapter Ninety-Two

Seeing the tears in his nephew's eyes, Gawain questioned, "News about what, Ben? Is Accolon all right?"

"Cousin Accolon's all right," Ben hiccupped, brushing at his tears, before continuing, "I thought I should tell you first."

Gawain cocked an eyebrow at the statement, before questioning, "First? Why are you telling me first? And who's second?"

Ben gulped and blurted, "It's about Uncle Gaheris."

Gawain cocked an eyebrow, paling only slightly. Turning over his shoulder, he checked to make sure that Galahad and Morgaine were out of hearing range. When he had arranged for Gaheris' quest, he had done so with spies shadowing his every step. He had wanted to know if Gaheris was on his way to Britain or if he'd perished, before anyone else in Camelot knew. "What about Gaheris? Is he finally dead?"

"Not exactly. Irish sentries reported that there are two men coming this way. And your own spies report that Gaheris is in Eire. He's coming here. And there's someone with him."

There was silence from Gawain….silence….silence….silence….silence.

"Shit!" Gawain burst out in horror, struggling to keep calm. Checking the wedding party again, he saw that no one had noticed his outburst. Standing, he pushed his fingers back through his hair, before ordering quickly, "Okay, we have to confiscate everything of Galahad's with a sharp edge or point." He paused before shaking his head in frustration, "You know what, just confiscate everything. Twine, rope, bowstrings, everything. Gather the squires and get to work. And don't tell Galahad he's back yet."

The two slipped from the room, walking together for several feet, before Gawain stopped and turned to the boy again, "And if you're wrong, Gareth's son or not, I'm going to hang you up by your toenails, disembowel you and laugh as the carrion feed on your corpse."

Ben's eyes widened and he nodded, before running off to recruit his brothers and cousins in preventing murder. Gawain swore under his breath, unable to believe that the news of his younger brother's arrival in Ireland had caused him to threaten a five year old boy. He needed to calm down and regain his equilibrium or everyone was going to know there was something wrong.

Striding confidently from Sanctuary, he happened upon his little brother, seven men he vaguely recognized as being part of Connor's army and a man he did not recognize at all. The Celtic soldiers surrounded Gaheris as Gawain approached. "Gaheris I have four things to point out to you," pausing, Gawain held up his hand and began to count off on his fingers, "you're alive, you're here, you're in Eire, and you've got company." Pointing at each finger, he asked a question for each one, "Why? Why? Why? And who?"

Gaheris' chin raised in defiance and he stared at his brother through cold eyes. "I have completed my quest. Let me by, Gawain."

Gawain shook his head, before speaking, "You can't have completed your quest. It was impossible. It's why we sent you on it."

The man with Gaheris spoke up, "Can I inquire….?"

Gawain turned to his and spoke, "I'll get to you in a minute. First I need to deal with my brother." He turned back to Gaheris and rubbed his forehead, heaving a deep sigh, "Well I guess I can't stop you. Though before you plan on going any farther, may I make a suggestion?"

Gaheris looked at his brother, bored, before gesturing for him to make his suggestion. Gawain smiled thinly, hissing, "Stab yourself before Galahad does."

At just that moment, Galahad barged from Sanctuary, his sword still strapped to his belt. "How the hell is he alive?" he roared, advancing menacingly with murder in his eyes.

Gawain looked up at the sky overhead, muttering, "Heads will roll when I find out who told him."

Galahad approached and glared at the teenager. He had grown in the five years of his absence and now stood almost even with Gawain, though Gaheris was still shorter than his brother by an inch or two. Galahad, however, was the second-tallest of the Knights and still towered over the boy, using his height in an attempt at intimidation. As Gaheris paled at the sight of Galahad's anger, it seemed to work. "How the hell are you alive?" Galahad hissed, his ivy eyes spitting fire and brimstone.

Gaheris took a hasty swallow and then replied, "I have completed my quest."

Galahad sneered, "That is impossible. Morgaine's father is dead. We knew that when we sent you."

The man at Gaheris' side spoke up, "But I am Morgaine's father."

Galahad glared at the older man, as Gawain questioned, "What's your name, old man?"

"I am called Ban. May I see my daughter? I have missed her and Gaheris tells me that she has married."

Gawain chuckled cruelly, "Her situation is complex," to which Galahad tacked on, "She's married to us."

Ban's eyes grew huge. "Us? As in a plural 'us'?"

Galahad snarled sarcastically, "Well you see, the voices in my head tell me that I'm married to her. But Gawain claims to be married to her as well. So we just decided to share."

"Share? Like you share a trophy?"

Galahad looked insulted at the suggestion, his fingers flinching rashly toward his blade, and Gawain moved to stay his hand with a shake of his head. "No. We have both pledged our lives and our love to her. She is our wife." The special emphasis on "our" clued Ban in that their union with his daughter was a sacred thing in their eyes.

Ban rolled his eyes, changing the subject, "And I suppose she has another father as well."

Galahad turned away, unable to look at Gaheris further without killing him. "She does. His name is Merlin, and Morgaine is his Darkest Child."

Gawain smiled thinly, before moving off after Morgaine's youngest husband. The Celtic people looked from their allies to the two men they'd accompanied toward Sanctuary, confused about the animosity radiating from the two of them.

Meanwhile Arthur was raising a toast with Connor, Fergus and the rest of the Knights in honor of the Irish Prince's marriage. Galahad came storming into Sanctuary, shouting, "Arthur!"

Arthur, hearing the barely concealed malice in the Youngest's voice, excused himself and left the cave. He still wore the formal clothing he'd worn to Molly's wedding, though his sword was attached to his belt, and the hilts of two knives protruded from the tops of his boots. One look at the boy who followed his Knights and his eyes hardened. Turning to his eldest daughter, Viviane, he told her gently, "Go find your mother and Aunt Morgaine."

Viviane nodded, racing away to find the two women, who were at the moment assisting Molly in preparing for her wedding night. Arthur turned back to Gawain, and hissed, "How the hell is he still alive?"

Galahad snarled, "That's what I asked."

Drawing his blade from its scabbard, Arthur sneered, "Allow me to correct the oversight."

As he advanced toward Gaheris, the Celtic men closed ranks about him. Arthur hissed, "Get the hell out of my way."

The leader of the band swallowed hard at the barely concealed hatred in Arthur's eyes but insisted, "You cannot kill him, Your Majesty. He has asylum."

Gawain stepped forward, questioning, "Why did you do a damned fool thing like that?"

Galahad threw up his hands in frustration. "We nearly get killed, just camping in the woods. And they give him asylum. Funny old world, isn't it?" he asked, his best friend angrily.

Gawain touched Galahad's shoulder, trying to calm him down. Arthur questioned, "So what does that mean?"

"While you and he are guests are on our island, we cannot allow you to kill him. Or you will become our enemies."

Galahad spoke up sarcastically, questioning in Latin, "Arthur? Permission to single-handedly conquer Eire?"

Arthur shook his head, replying in the same language, "Permission denied. We need them. We'll kill him when we get home."

Ban spoke curiously. "Why is it you three wish to kill him so badly?"

Gawain chuckled coldly. "You'll find, old man, that we're not the only ones. Every Knight here would gladly slit his throat if they could."

Arthur spoke, "He kidnapped my sister and one of his co-conspirators disgraced her. Even now, she has nightmares of her time in their captivity."

Galahad and Gawain glanced at their king. While it was true Morgaine still had nightmares, they didn't plague her as they used to. And most times, she could bring herself out of them on her own. Ban looked at him curiously, "Who is your sister?"

"She was called Morgaine upon her birth by her father. It means 'sea's edge'."

Ban cocked an eyebrow and spoke derisively, "That's interesting. I don't remember having a son."

Morgaine arrived with Guinevere and Viviane seconds later. "What is going on here? I leave for one hour to help Molly, and come back to find anarchy amongst my Knights. What's happened? All I know is that Viviane came scrambling into the room, babbling something about 'Daddy,' 'murder' and 'sent for me'."

The Knights shifted and she caught sight of Gaheris first. Her face paled and she swayed. Both Galahad and Gawain rushed to catch her, each of them taking an arm to prevent her from falling to the ground. "Nazneen? Are you all right?" Galahad inquired, his hands moving toward her hair.

"What is he doing here? And how is he alive?" she gasped, trying to shrink as far back into her husbands' arms as she could manage. Galahad's hands drifted cautiously through her hair as Gawain's hands smoothed gently over her back.

Gaheris muttered scathingly, "That seems to be the popular question today."

Galahad glared at him, pulling Morgaine close to his body and away from Gaheris. Gawain moved away from Morgaine and grabbed his little brother by the collar of his shirt, shaking him roughly. "You'll keep quiet, before I make you keep quiet. I can't kill you, but I'm sure Tristan can get imaginative. After all, it was Tristan who was executioner, judge and jury with your fellow conspirators. The only reason you're still alive is because of my good will."

Gaheris' eyes widened at the barely concealed malice in his brother's eyes. Nodding frantically, he breathed a soft sigh as he was released with a small shove. Morgaine's eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Ban as well. "Papa?" she asked in Sarmatian.

Galahad and Gawain looked down at her in surprise, before following her line of sight toward where Ban was standing. Galahad looked down at her in confusion, "You mean that's actually your father?"

"He's gotten older, but I would recognize my father anywhere."

Her two men watched her expectantly, waiting for some kind of reaction. Suddenly her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell, Galahad's arms closing around her and swooping her up into his arms before anyone had even realized she'd started to fall. Galahad looked at Arthur, his eyes pleading. Arthur nodded once, giving the two Knights leave to tend to their wife. Gawain followed his wife and best friend as Galahad carried her away to her room.

Bergisa and Lancelot arrived then, their arms looped together. They stopped beside Guinevere, watching Morgaine's insensible body being borne away. "What happened?" Lancelot demanded, before he caught sight of Gaheris.

Releasing his wife, Lancelot planted his fist firmly in Gaheris' face. Gaheris stumbled back, Arthur taking his best friend's shoulders and hauling him back. "We can't kill him! They've given him asylum." Arthur said, trying to force his lieutenant to sanity.

"I don't have to kill him. I just want to hurt him, badly. How dare he come sauntering in here, scare Morgaine like that and then expect not to have anything happen to him? What are you doing here, little traitor?" Lancelot hissed, his chocolate eyes blazing.

Bergisa stepped forward, her children clinging to her skirts. "Lance, my love, you're scaring your children. Calm yourself. We can deal with Gaheris later. I, for one, am going to check on Morgaine. I want to make sure she's all right. With your leave, my liege?"

Arthur nodded, watching his little sister's best friend walk down the hallway toward the cave that made up the bedchamber his sister, her husbands and their children shared. Glancing back at his lieutenant, he sighed, "Calm yourself, Lance. We can't kill him, which means for the moment we have to deal with him."

Lancelot nodded sharply once. He didn't like it but he didn't really have to like it. He just had to go along with it. Stepping forward, he dragged Gaheris up by his collar, hissing at him menacingly. "You listen to me, little traitor, and listen to me well. If I hear that you even looked at my sister wrong, I'll kill you. And damn the consequences. Stay away from Morgaine and her children. Do you understand me, little traitor?"

Gaheris could see the loathing in Lancelot's eyes and gulped, nodding frantically in agreement. Lancelot shoved the teenager back from him and stormed away. Arthur sighed, before looking at a squire to his left. "Find Sir Dagonet."

The boy nodded, dashing away to find the tall leviathan. Dagonet appeared at Arthur's side moments later. "Yes, Sire?"

"Could you show Gaheris to the same quarters as our Roman friend?"

Dagonet nodded, grabbing the boy by the arm and dragging him toward the cells where the Roman scout was still languishing among the rats and the mud. Watching them go, Arthur muttered softly, "This is going to be a fun campaign."

The Native Prince stared after his ally in surprise at the casual comment, as Arthur turned and walked away. Looking up at Fergus, he questioned in his deep Irish accent, "What was all of that?"

"British drama no doubt. We'll find out later. Head on to bed. Your bride should be joining you soon enough."

Though he resented that his champion was treating him like a child, Connor recognized the truth in his words for what they were. Nodding once at the older man, Connor sought his bed. Molly arrived minutes later, dressed in only a thin robe and the glory of her unbound hair. Connor led her to their shared bed and remembered nothing more for the rest of the night.


	93. Chapter 93

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Sorry for the wait everybody. Missed you all like nuts! Let me know what you think!

Chapter Ninety-Three

When Galahad and Gawain herded their children into the dining hall, their wife was conspicuously absent. "Where's Momma?" asked tiny Takara, looking up from her seat beside her father, Jols.

"Good evening to you too, Kara," Galahad greeted the child, lifting his own tiny daughter into her seat beside his.

Obviously unsatisfied with his answer, Takara scowled at her foster father, demanding again, "Where's Momma?"

"She's . . . not feeling well," Gawain said, trying to phrase it in a way that the child would understand.

Takara's brows rushed together in confusion, as she tried to find someway to make her foster mother feel better. Finally landing on her cup, she lifted it, "Juice?"

Galahad let out a tiny sigh. "I don't think juice is going to help this time, Takara."

Takara slumped back in frustration, kicking the table leg in a childish display of temper. Jols leveled a stern eye at his daughter, getting a sheepish smile and a tiny, "Sorry," for his trouble.

Tristan, meanwhile, had been evaluating Morgaine's husbands silently up till then. Crooking a finger at the Youngest, he smirked as Galahad swallowed hard but obeyed, crouching beside Tristan's chair. "So, was it for Gaheris' return, or Ban's, that Morgaine asked to be left alone?"

"None of your business," Galahad muttered arguably.

"Was it Gaheris?"

"No," he grumbled, pointedly.

"Ban, then?"

"None of your business!" Galahad ground out.

"Ah, that would be a yes."

"Tristan, you nosy son of a Sarmatian whore," Galahad ground out, getting a solid whack across the back of his head from Tristan. "Ow!"

"Don't speak of my Mama that way," Tristan said, before shoving back his chair. "Well, I'm off to talk to a stubborn princess."

"She said she didn't want to be disturbed!" Galahad protested.

"Did she mention me specifically by name?"

"Well, no . . . she just told Gawain and me to go to dinner and that she wanted to be alone."

"Well then, I'm off." And then, he was gone, before the Youngest could say another word. Snapping his fingers sharply in frustration, Galahad grumbled loudly as he took his seat beside his youngest daughter.

Morgaine stood alone at the window of the bedchamber she shared with her husbands and children, that night after her father had returned from the dead. After much arguing, Galahad and Gawain had left her be, more for the sake of their lives than actually wanting to leave her alone. Only one man dared to approach the brooding woman they called Dark Child.

"Morgaine?" came Tristan's familiar baritone.

"Go away, Tristan," was all she said, her voice colored brightly by tears.

It took two steps for him to make it to her side and gather her sobbing form into the encircling embrace of his arms. He hummed nonsense under his breath, trying to soothe her tears. "It's all right, Princess. We'll make this better," he promised, leaning forward to kiss the center of her forehead.

"How?" she demanded, shoving free of her brother and storming across the room. "My father, who was dead, is alive! How can you make this better?"

Tristan let her pace, reclining backward against the wall. Watching her, he was thrown into the past. She was a beautiful woman, and had been a steady source of strength and peace for as long as he had known her. He, especially, had benefited from her calming grace. "You know, if I was your father, I'd think you hated me."

"Tristan, at the moment, I do hate you," she ground out, her eyes blue murder as they glared his way while she stormed past.

"No you don't. You're just frustrated with me, because I'm disturbing your brooding. You've had plenty of time to brood so far. I'll tell you what, I'll give you thirty more seconds of quality brooding time, before we need to talk."

"Thirty seconds?"

"Well, twenty-eight now. You're wasting time, Princess. Once that thirty seconds is up, we're talking. So brood."

Morgaine glared at him, but continued to pace, knowing that he was only trying to goad her into a fight. "Twenty-three . . . sixteen . . . Well, this is so much fun I might fall asleep," Tristan muttered under his breath, listening to the sound of the rain against the window. " . . . Seven . . . six . . . "

"Tristan! I get it! Shut up! All right, you wanted to talk. Talk."

"You had five more seconds."

"Tristan, I've kicked your ass before . . . I'll do it again," she growled, watching as Tristan suddenly backed up frantically, well remembering the kind of damage the Sarmatian Princess was capable of when she was angry.

"All right, if you want to talk so badly, we'll talk! So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked nonchalantly, still trying to push her into lashing out at him and getting her anger out of her system.

It looked like he'd accomplished his goal when Morgaine suddenly rounded on her heel and her eyes shot icy blue flames in his general direction. And it was then, that Tristan remembered what fear truly was. "Did my husbands send you?" she asked in a coldly furious tone, as she stalked to stand in front of him.

"Definitely not. They value their lives much higher than that."

"Smart men. I would that you were more like them. Because then, you wouldn't be here."

Tristan faked a blush and pushed Morgaine teasingly on the shoulder, clucking his tongue, "Ah. You don't mean that."

"Yes, I really do."

"No, you don't mean that," he repeated, still with that aw shucks exterior he knew pissed his companion off. Morgaine turned to look at him, her eyes nearly black with anger. Backing off hastily, he nodded, "All right. May . . . Maybe you do. So your father's back from the dead? Now what?"

Morgaine groaned and moved to stand at the window again. "I have no idea."

"Aye, I played the part of your dad. Now, he can play my part. What do you think would have happened if you'd never talked to me?"

"I shudder to think," she remarked dryly.

"Aye . . . aye . . . aye, I was a coldhearted rascal once upon a time . . . "

"Just 'once upon a time'?" she taunted.

"Aye, a complete scoundrel. A total trouble maker, if I do say so myself. I'm a stand-up kind of guy, now, you know."

"With a penchant for killing."

"Aye, with that." Tristan said, getting a kind of wistful smile on his face as he recalled torturing Urien. "But that's neither here nor there."

"Of course not. Tristan, do you have a point?"

"Point? Right, um, well the point is . . . if you hadn't talked to me, I'd still be that person."

"And this has anything to do with my father, because?"

"I look at him and, you know I'm pretty good at figuring things out about people, and um, I think . . . I think, he's a lot like me. Distant . . . not really connected to the world . . . needs a saint of a princess to come along and save him."

"I'm hardly one of Arthur's saints," she reminded her friend, giving him a tiny smile.

"Aye, well, we can say that for both of us, eh?"

Morgaine started to giggle at the playful look in Tristan's eyes. "All right, I get it. I'll talk to him. Just because you're a pain in my arse."

"Now, when you say that, am I still role playing your father?"

"Tristan," she growled good-naturedly, getting a cheeky, and very uncharacteristic, smirk from the Knight. "You're awful."

"Well, yes, I suppose I am. But seriously, you should talk to him. He's probably just as worried about facing you, as you are about facing him. I know, if I hadn't seen Desiree for a long time, I would be afraid to get to know her again, but I know I'd want to."

"Tristan . . . " she said, smiling up at him with a sad smile. Coming up to him, she hugged him lightly and kissed his cheek, " . . . thank you."

"Ah, don't mention it. Now, I'm starving. Can we go to dinner?" he whined, sounding very much like the daughter to whom he had referred.

"Oh dear," giggled the Dark Child, before getting herself under control and linking her arm through his, "Follow your stomach, Tristan, I'm right behind you."


	94. Chapter 94

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Hey guys! Thanks for all the support on this! I really appreciate reading all of your reviews every time I upload a new chapter . . . as rare as that is. Let me know what you think of this next chapter, okay?

Chapter Ninety-Four

Morgaine finally gained up the courage to talk to her father the next day, just before the fight that Arthur had staged between her and Lancelot. She found him in the quarters he'd been assigned, staring at the window as she had been doing only days before. "Papa?" she asked, looking up at him.

Ban whirled, stopping in his tracks at the sight of his 28 year old daughter. She was much changed since her childhood . . . though he imagined that's what they did. Children grew up . . . they learned from their experience . . . and they no longer needed their fathers like they had when they were so young. "Morgaine . . . " he stammered, trying to find some way to make his thoughts known to the woman who had once been his child.

Morgaine stood silently, her hands gripping the pommels of her swords as they crossed in front of her stomach in their scabbards. "I hardly recognize you," she told him honestly, though she did see distinct similarities between the man in her memories and the man standing before her. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back for me?"

"I couldn't. They took me with them back to Rome, and sold me on a block. I've been trying to get back to you for all of these years. The memory of my sweet little girl was all that kept me alive."

"I'm not that little girl anymore," she said, ducking her head as though she blamed herself for growing up, though such a thing was outside of her control.

"No . . . no, you are most certainly not. My little girl looked awkward with a knife in her hands, while you are wearing two blades as though you were born to them."

Morgaine smiled as she recalled the fact he'd called her a "sweet little girl". "My husbands might have something to say about the sweet part," she chuckled, thinking that Galahad would just as soon keel over than consider the fact that his Warrior Princess could be called "sweet". "So . . . I am not your daughter. And you are not my father." Ducking her head, she took a deep breath and asked, "So where does that leave us now?"

"At a beginning, once again."

"A good beginning?"

"That, my dear, is entirely up to you."

Morgaine nodded, stepping forward. "I cannot call you Papa, not like I used to. My papa is in Britain, ruling it in my brother's stead. May I call you Ban?"

"You may. May I call you Morgaine?"

"I would be honored. Would you like to come watch the fight . . . Ban? It promises to be . . . entertaining, if nothing else."

"I would love to. But do we have some time to catch up on the last 24 years? My story consists mostly of labor camps, but I would like to hear about how you became such an amazing woman."

"I'd like that . . . after the fight," she said with a sly smirk. "I've been looking forward to this for almost two weeks."

"Of course," he said, nodding once, before Morgaine smiled evilly and led the way to the sparring pits.

Lancelot was already there, with Tristan, with the rest of the Knights leaning against the railings in anticipation of what promised to be a good fight. Despite their general teasing of the Knight, Lancelot was not the First Knight solely by the merit of his pretty face. He was an accomplished warrior and, no matter how badly the other Knights and their wives wanted their Dark Child to win, Lance would not be making it easy for her.

Morgaine sized up her brother as she strode to the pits. She knew, as did everyone else, that Lancelot was just as desperate to get her onto the battlefield against the Romans as the wives. However, he was not just going to roll over and let her win. It would a battle between the two siblings. In order to win it, Morgaine would have to be patient and goad him into losing his own temper, making him careless enough for her to slip past his guard.

Coming to stand with her husbands, she let them fuss over her for the sake of their own peace of mind, before kissing each. "I'll be fine," she said with a tiny smile. "Don't worry so much."

"We can't help it, Nazneen," Galahad said with a rueful smile, leaning down to kiss her temple. "You sure you're ready for this?"

"Tristan and I sparred yesterday. And except for the fact that I tripped over Ben, I almost won."

Clasping Galahad on the shoulder and shaking him affectionately, Gawain reminded his wife, "Very few people have beaten Tristan, my Lady."

Morgaine nodded with a smile, watching as her youngest husband turned the rosy color of an unmistakable blush. Between the two, they jostled him fondly, getting good-natured scowls and low growls from the source of their merriment. Tristan came over to the railing, smiling at the threesome, before he spoke, "Your Highness, it's time."

Morgaine nodded at him, seeing his humor in his usually expressionless black eyes. "Let me finish comforting my husbands, and I'll be right there."

Tristan nodded and returned to the middle of the pits. Morgaine smiled up at her husbands, reaching up to cup both of their cheeks. "I will be all right. Lancelot and I are both experienced at war, and neither of us will grievously hurt the other. You have brought me this far, Sarmatian . . . now I must go the rest of the way."

Galahad shook his head, his green eyes piercing those of his young wife. Many Britons looked to the guidance of their Sarmatian Princes, and the steadfast love of her husbands. All of them forgot, however, that Princess and Youngest had fallen in love when Merlin's Dark Child was 14 years old, before the Knight was separated from his beloved . . . and unknowingly, his firstborn son. Their loyalty to each other was matched only by that of Gawain, and even that only to these two whose bed he shared. When Galahad had placed his plan in action, he had known that there would be a price.

This match between his wife and her brother, for the redemption of her honor and tattoos, and a place on another battlefield, was that price.

It all would be for naught if Morgaine failed.

Hugging each of her men, Morgaine ducked under the railing and moved to join Tristan and Lancelot in the middle of the pits. "All right, gentlemen, let's get started, shall we?" she inquired, smiling at the two men with mischief in her eyes and a kind of good-natured grace.

Tristan looked between the two combatants, a rare gleam in his eyes. "All right, the two of you, I want a good, clean fight. For example, none of this . . . " he said, one hand coming up at lightning speed to punch Lancelot in the nose.

Lancelot howled, grabbing his nose and stumbling backward. Holding his nose, he waited until the blood stopped flowing before rejoining the two. Tristan cocked an eyebrow, before nodding, "Right none of that. Or for that matter, none of this either," he said, his hand catching Lancelot low in the gut.

His breath leaving him in a rush, Lancelot doubled over with a groan. Morgaine shook her head at her brother, knowing what he was doing. "Oh and none of this . . . " he said, pulling his hand back, stopped only when Morgaine grabbed his hand lightly. "Tristan. I can handle it."

"Right. Well none of this below the belt stuff either," he continued, pulling back his foot and sending Lancelot practically running for cover.

"Tristan!" Morgaine shouted, unable to hide the laughter in her voice. "I've got it."

"Right. All right then, a good clean fight . . . etc . . . etc." Tristan grumbled, walking away, delivering one last good blow to Lancelot's midsection as he walked away.

Morgaine rolled her eyes as he walked away. Arthur glanced at his Knight, cocking an eyebrow. "Tristan. What were you doing?"

"Just demonstrating the rules of fair play, Your Majesty. A little bit of a visual aid is all."

Morgaine cocked her head at her older brother. "You're not going to flake on me, are you?"

"If I can stand there while Tristan gives me a solid beating, I'm not going to run away from my little sister."

Morgaine grin was brilliant as she drew her twin blades. "I'm so glad. I'd hate to miss out on the challenge of knocking you onto that pretty, if ample, backside of yours."

Lancelot glowered at her. "We'll see whose backside is going to be landing in the dirt." Suddenly realizing what she'd said, he gave her a cheeky grin, "Been watching my backside lately, have you?"

Morgaine rolled her eyes. "You really need to check that ego of yours. Now, are you going to attack me? Or are you just going to stand there like a ninny? You could just make it easier on yourself and just land on your backside now."

"Never," Lancelot said.

Seeing that Lancelot was waiting for her to make the first move, she attacked. Lancelot parried, smirking down at her. "You're going to have to do better than that, Morgaine, in order to win."

While he was gloating about the small victory, Morgaine narrowed her eyes at him and pulled back her previously injured leg to kick him sharply in the shin. Lancelot leaped backward, shouting, "OW! That hurt!" Shaking out his leg, he glared down at her. "At great, personal cost to me, Tristan outlawed that move, if you'll remember."

"I didn't see anything. He didn't demonstrate a kick to the shin," Morgaine replied with a cheeky grin.

Lancelot stared at her. "Demonstrate a kick to the shin!" Glowering at her, it became obvious to Morgaine that he had steeled his revolve. "Let's just get on with it."

Morgaine grinned, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "With pleasure."

Suddenly the fight was in full swing, neither giving the other any leeway. Then, out of the blue, the flat of Morgaine's blade slapped Lancelot stoutly in the nose. Lancelot reared back, staring at her in confusion. Then, as the pain started to make itself known, Lancelot lifted one hand to make sure his nose wasn't broken . . . or bleeding. "You'll pay for that you little minx," he growled, lunging at her again.

Morgaine only let the evil smirk on her face widen into an evil grin. "I'm counting on it," she replied, spinning away from a swing that, had they been on a real battlefield, would have taken her head off.

Letting him into her personal space, she parried his blows, letting him push her back toward the fence. Finally, when she should have been trapped, she ducked under his arm and slammed her blade into the side of his head this time, opening a small cut at the edge of his ear. Grabbing at the offending wound, Lancelot growled low in his throat and attacked her again. This went on for most of the fight, Lancelot thinking he was about to beat her, before Morgaine would pull a truly acrobatic stunt and land another jarring blow. Each hit only served to make Lancelot angrier, his vision taking on a sheen of red.

Then, suddenly and out of nowhere, it happened.

Where seconds before, Lancelot had been on his own two feet and taking a swing at his sister that should have won the fight, he now found himself flat on his back and staring up in shock at the cloudy grey skies. Appearing in his vision, Morgaine smirked down at him. "Good fight, brother."

Looking up at her brother and king, she cocked her head, "I think this means, I won."

Arthur cocked his head at his sister. "I'm not so sure that was fair."

"We could do it again, Your Majesty," Tristan said with an malevolent grin. "I would be more than happy to referee once again."

"Thank you, Tristan, but that won't be necessary."

Tristan nodded once in agreement. "All right then, I'm off. I have to . . . uh . . . put in some target practice before the battle. Give Lancelot my best," he called back, before he pulled a knife from a hidden sheath and an apple from his sporran, before heading off, all the while whittling at the fruit.

By the time Lancelot had made it to his feet, Tristan had already disappeared from view. "Where is he?" he growled, grabbing up his swords.

"Where's who?" Morgaine asked, from where she stood within the embrace of her husband's arms. The two Knights were treating her like spun glass, running their hands over every inch of her to guarantee themselves she'd not been injured. Finally, she lost patience and waved them away. "Get off!"

"Tristan . . . where is he? I'm going to kill him."

"Lance, do you really think that's a good idea?" Arthur inquired of his best friend.

"The best one I've had all year."

Bergisa winked playfully at her best friend, chirping, "And that's saying something."

Morgaine snorted, trying to hold in her laughter as her brother looked at his wife and growled, "Traitor."

Bergisa shrugged good-naturedly, the look in her eyes promising to make up for it later . . . when there wasn't an audience and when they were alone. Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Lance, you just lost to Morgaine. Tristan can kick your ass on a good day, and you're currently staggering. Do you really think you can beat him?"

"Well then, if I can't beat him . . . " Lancelot growled, his gaze rounding on his wife, " . . . I do know someone who can."

An hour later, everyone in Sanctuary heard Tristan's pained yelp. "Ow! You're my sister, Bergisa! Stop it!"


	95. Chapter 95

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Hey guys! Thanks for all the support on this! And now, reviews from my lovely reviewers! I haven't done this in awhile, so bear with me, kay?

Babak: What apologetic email, honey? But that's okay! No need to apologize. I'm just glad you haven't given up on me yet. Yay! Of course Morgaine beat Lancelot, we all knew she would. And I'm sure Ban would be just as scared of Bergisa as he would of Tristan. She can be very scary when the people she loves are being threatened, you know. I'm glad you enjoyed the part where Bergisa was defending her husband's . . . can I say honor here? . . . it was fun to write. Thanks for all the support, sweetie! I love you!

HGandRHForever: Long time no see, sweetie! I missed you! I'm glad you're starting to get caught up. Don't worry about rushing it. Just take your time and I'll look forward to reading more from you, okay? And Morgaine can be pretty terrifying when she'd mad, can't she? ;)

the green lama: hey, honey! Enjoy!

Evenstar-mor: I'm glad you liked it. I understand all about the school-and-work mess. I'm dealing with it even now. I look forward to hearing more from you, though, okay? Missed ya!

Batista's lil' Angel: For a second I was like, who are you?! But then I figured it out. It's good to see you back. You changed your penname. I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter. I hope you enjoy the next one, too!

op: BABY! LOVER! WHERE ARE YOU!? I MISS YOU! Come back my Lovely, so that I can squeeze the stuffing out of you!

And now without further ado . . .

Chapter Ninety-Five

The next day, Arthur's Knights and Connor's lieutenants gathered at the improvised Round Table for a meeting. Tristan was sporting a rather ghastly black eye, courtesy of his sister, and Lancelot was covered in nasty little gashes from his fight with his own sister. Arthur took one look at his Knights and sighed, dropping his head into a palm. Fergus took one look at the Knights and leaned over to Arthur. "While I don't like to criticize a king, um . . . they haven't seen any fighting yet. Have they?"

"Of course they have," Arthur said, a fond, if exasperated, smile curving the corners of his mouth.

"I mean, since they've come to Sanctuary."

"Everyday since," Arthur continued, rolling his eyes. "This is what happens when you preside over a Round Table full of children."

"I resent that!" shouted every Knight at the table, getting placating smiles from their wives. Bergisa spoke up first, "No, loves, you resemble that."

Arthur smiled at his younger sister. "Morgaine's the only grown-up one of the bunch."

Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other over their wife's head, before looking down at Morgaine and then back at Arthur. "Who says?"

Suddenly the two Knights doubled simultaneously as the points of Morgaine's elbows found their ways into the soft spots below their ribs. Galahad gasped out at his best friend, "How long are we going to let her get away with that?"

"Until she stops doing it," Gawain gasped back, grimacing as he straightened.

Galahad nodded, "Good with me."

Glancing at Guinevere, she smirked, "You see, Your Majesty, I have them trained just fine."

Guinevere was practically chortling. "I can see that, sister. Mind giving me a few lessons?"

"We'll see what we can do," Morgaine said with an evil grin.

Every Knight at the table groaned, as all of their wives nodded in agreement. "Can we get to work now?" Arthur inquired, glancing around the table.

"Of course, brother, we're only waiting on you," Morgaine taunted, her eyes flashing with good humor.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his sister. "I take back every good thing I ever said about you."

"Remember that, while you're lying gutted on a battlefield and I conveniently don't see you," Morgaine sassed back with a twinkle in her eyes.

Fergus grinned, distinctly reminded of his own daughter when confronted with the Sarmatian Princess' sarcasm. "Impish little lass, isn't she?"

Arthur voice was dry as he agreed, "You have no idea."

Just then, the doors burst inward and in strode Accolon. Dagonet shot to his feet at the sight of his step-son. Lucan had a less restrained reaction, throwing himself out of his chair and dashing to throw his arms around his brother and best friend. "You're all right?" Lucan demanded, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him lightly.

"Yes, I'm fine," Accolon agreed, the two brothers hugging tightly again. "And I've brought a guest."

A pretty young Irish lass walked through the door just then. She couldn't have been much younger than Mary, making her not quite 17. Brown hair tumbled in disorderly waves down her back and she was rather filthy. Morgaine narrowed his eyes at the sight of her. "What's your name, child?" she asked, her voice cold and almost harsh.

The girl ducked her head, obviously shy and intimidated by Britain's powerful young Princess. Morgaine's voice dropped a few degrees in temperature as she spoke again, "I asked you a question."

"Her name is Sorcha, Aunt," Accolon answered impulsively, trying to spare his companion any distress.

"I didn't ask you," his aunt snapped back, her navy eyes as cold as ice.

"She's shy. She doesn't want to answer you!" Accolon insisted, his temper starting to show.

Galahad and Gawain shot to their feet at the insolent tone in their nephew's voice, before Morgaine stood as well and waved her husbands back into their seats. "She will answer, Accolon. Because I want to know how it is that she came to be in a Roman camp. And how it is that she is here. Do I make myself clear?"

"With all due respect, my lady . . . "Accolon said, moving to argue.

Dagonet's voice was quiet as he spoke, "Accolon."

Accolon balked, realizing then just how he'd spoken to Merlin's Dark Child and most beloved leader in Britain. "Yes, sir. I apologize for my temper, Your Highness. Forgive me."

"Forgiven," Morgaine replied dismissively, waving her hand to brush away the apology. Turning her attention back to the girl, she asked again, "What is your name, child?"

"My name is Sorcha, my lady," the girl squeaked, her voice as quiet as a mouse and as chirping as a tiny sparrows.

"What are you doing here? And how did you meet my nephew?" Morgaine asked, one hand on Galahad's shoulder, feeling the tension coiled deep within his muscles. The Youngest obviously didn't like the girl's sudden appearance any more than his wife did. Which didn't surprise the Dark Child. She and her husband had always been on the same page as the other.

"I was a prisoner at the Roman camp, my lady. Sir Accolon rescued me."

"Are you a spy?" Morgaine demanded.

"Aunt!" Accolon burst out indignantly, falling silent at his father's, and then his king's, sharp glances.

"Answer the question!"

"No, my lady, I am not."

Morgaine narrowed her eyes. "We shall see about that. Mary, you and Lucan find her quarters. Out of the way, understood?"

"Yes Your Highness," Mary agreed, getting up and bobbing a quick curtsy, before she and her husband took the girl's arms to lead her away.

Accolon moved to follow them, stopped in his tracks by the frigid tone in his aunt's voice. "You stay."

Taking a deep breath, Accolon released it slowly and turned back to see the Sarmatian Princess staring at him with fire in her eyes and a hard set to her mouth. "What have you done?" she demanded harshly.

"I have provided sanctuary to someone who needed it."

Her fury flared and she snapped, "And what right do you have to do that? This is not our home! This is the only safe place for Connor and his people! We have no right to put them in danger like that."

"She's a little girl!" Accolon argued softly.

"Who could very well be a spy!" Morgaine reminded him sharply.

"So what are you going to do? Throw her out?!" Accolon raged, stepping forward angrily.

"No, because that would mean that she goes straight back to her masters and tells them where we are!" she snapped back.

"Well, if you want to kill her, you're going to have to go through me."

"Nobody's killing anyone," Arthur said finally, pulling himself to his feet. "You're getting ahead of yourself Accolon. What do you propose to do about her, Morgaine?"

"Keep her here. Under constant guard. Accolon has full responsibility of her. And if she should disappear, he will be held accountable."

"That's fair," Arthur agreed, turning to his nephew. "You will be in charge of her. And make sure she doesn't leave your sight, understood?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. With pleasure, Your Majesty," Accolon said, a wide smile on his face as he turned to follow her.

"And Accolon?" Morgaine called after him, once again taking her seat between her husbands.

Accolon turned to her, "Yes Your Highness?"

"Do NOT fall in love with the chit," she ordered, her voice cold and her eyes seeing more than Accolon thought they should.

"You're right. Knights don't make their own matches, do they?" Accolon shot back, before he strode from the room angrily.

"I am going to strangle that boy," Morgaine hissed furiously, her eyes blazing the color of a stormy midnight sky. Turning to her brother, she implored him, "That is not why I said that, Arthur, I swear."

"I know why you said it Morgaine. You are only being cautious, worried about where her true loyalties lie."

Galahad took a deep breath. "So . . . thoughts anyone?"

"If I were to chose a spy, she would be what I would choose. She's pretty and she's unassuming . . . she's perfect," Tristan said, his words pretty much damning the girl in the eyes of all the Knights assembled. Tristan was their resident spy . . . he would know more about the type of person fit for espionage than any of them.

"So, do we have a guess at what he was thinking with? Since he was obviously not thinking with his head," Lancelot inquired, taking a sip from his goblet of spiced ale, the herbs mixed in with the drink easing the nagging pain of his injuries.

"I'd imagine he was thinking with the same thing you used to, before I married you off to Bergisa," Morgaine scolded, her voice filled with fury at her nephew's insinuation.

"Touché!" Lancelot said, grinning as his words brought a tiny smile to his sister's lips. "So, what do we do now?"

"We keep an eye on them both. And we interrogate Accolon about what he saw at the camp," Arthur said. "Ladies, would you keep Sorcha with you while we talk to him?"

"With pleasure," Morgaine growled, moving to stand and lead the way from the room.

Arthur shook his head. "Not you, Rhiannon. You are my most trusted advisor. You'll stay here with us and help us plan."

Morgaine took a deep breath and nodded, sinking back into her chair again with a sharp nod. Guinevere smiled at her sister-by-marriage, nodding once to reassure her husband's sister that the Woad Queen would keep a close eye on the Irish lass. Morgaine nodded in agreement to her Queen's unspoken words, her shoulders still tight with fury as Guinevere glided gracefully from the room. Galahad glanced at his wife, reaching out to brush a strand of ebony hair back over her shoulder. Seeing the concern in his eyes, Morgaine gave him a tiny smile and leaned back into her backrest. Linking her hands with those of both of her husbands, she rested her head back and took a deep breath.

By the time Accolon had returned, Morgaine wore the mask she showed only at court. It chilled Accolon's blood to see his beloved aunt staring at him with hardly any emotion at all. Tilting up his chin, he directed his gaze at his king. "You called for me, Your Majesty?"

"Tell us what you found out at the Roman camp. How many soldiers are

there? What are their defenses? Who is their leader?"

Accolon nodded, setting his shoulders resolutely and recounting everything he had learned on his own. "Sorcha told me a lot about the men in command there. As a mere foot soldier, I couldn't get close enough to any of them. But she was their scullery wench. She darted in and out of their private meetings, and no one ever noticed her."

Arthur glanced at his sister out of the corner of his eyes, watching as her shoulders tensed again at the girl's name. "That's all right, Accolon. We don't need to know their plans, yet, just their names."

Accolon nodded. "Diana is the one the Romans call the Queen of Ireland. She is followed everywhere by her advisor, Longenus. They say he can't be killed."

"Did you try it?" Tristan asked with an evil smirk.

Accolon shook his head once. "They would have killed me, and you never would have gotten this information. I didn't think it would be prudent to the mission to do so."

"But bringing home a scullery wench was prudent to the mission?" Morgaine hissed, the fury in her eyes returning at his words. "Never mind . . . " she insisted, as Accolon opened his mouth to argue. "Tell us about their defenses? Are they any good?"

"The camp is heavily fortified, but everything is too close together. If we were to use fire-arrows to light even a few tents on fire, the whole place would go up before the Romans have even realized there was one. There's a field about a quarter mile from the camp . . . a good place to make a stand against their infantry. We would have the high ground, seeing as we would be coming from this way."

"Sounds promising," Arthur agreed, glancing at Morgaine and then Lancelot, both of whom nodded their agreement. "Thank you, Accolon, good work. Seek your bed and get some rest."

Accolon nodded, bowing low to his king and then making a shallower bow to his princess. Everyone caught the sight, though no one said anything as Accolon turned on his heel and strode from the room. Morgaine sighed heavily, standing and turning to her brother. "If you'll excuse me, brother, I believe I should get some rest as well."

Arthur's eyes narrowed at her, though he only saw resignation and a deep, pervading exhaustion that threatened to bring his sister to her knees. Nodding, he waved her away. "You're excused, Rhiannon, take your husbands with you."

Morgaine nodded, curtsying shallowly. Galahad and Gawain's hands were tender on her elbows as they led her from the room. Once in their bedchamber, she moved to remove her gown, her eyes filled with tears. Unable to complete the task, Morgaine sank helplessly onto the edge of the bed. Glancing at his best friend, Gawain took a seat beside her. "You know Accolon is just a hot-head, right?"

"Does that necessarily mean he's wrong?" Morgaine asked, sprawling back onto the bed.

"Of course. Young hot-heads never know what it is they're saying," Gawain laughed, glancing sidelong at his best friend.

Galahad glared at him, "I do so."

"Speaking from experience there, love?" Morgaine teased, well acquainted as she was with her husband's incredibly short fuse.

Galahad opened his mouth to protest, before sinking back, defeated, slouched over and his mouth set in a firm pout. "No fair," he whined adorably, getting a grin from his wife and best friend.

"Galahad, have you ever thought of what it might be like to grow up?" Gawain taunted with a smirk.

"Of course. That's why I haven't done it yet," Galahad replied with a mischievous grin.

Realizing what it was that her husbands were doing, Morgaine smiled, before the pout on Galahad's lips and the grin on Gawain's got to her and she started to laugh. Throwing her arms around them both, she laughed, "I love you so."

"We love you, too, Lady," Gawain assured her, Galahad continuing, "Don't let Accolon get to you, all right?"

Morgaine nodded, cuddling close to them and letting their love wrap her in a safety she knew nowhere else. Closing her eyes, she let her consciousness slip away and she fell asleep. Galahad laid her back, the two taking up their usual sleeping positions around her, Morgaine's back to Gawain's chest and Galahad lying in front of her. Once he were sure she was deeply asleep and would not wake, Galahad looked up at his best friend with dark eyes. "I am going to beat that insolent little pup until he can't stand."

"Wait in line," Gawain growled, tightening his hold around their wife's waist.


	96. Chapter 96

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Where are you guys? Babak . . . Batista's Angel . . . thanks for the review. Hope you guys are enjoying the New Year, and looking forward to hearing what you think about this chapter.

Chapter Ninety-Six

The next day, Morgaine's husbands met up with Arthur, Lancelot and Tristan. "You know, I wonder what use I am anymore," Arthur mused as he stared out the window carved from the rock.

"Gotta kick Roman ass. You're pretty useful in that," Lancelot reminded his best friend, taking a sip of his ale.

"I meant after the war," Arthur laughed lightly, his heart not really in it.

Tristan chuckled, "There's always the Saxons back home."

"I had hoped to give my son a peaceful kingdom."

Lancelot laughed, "What son? You're surrounded by women."

Arthur turned slightly on his heel and glowered at his First Knight.

"Right, sore topic," Lancelot muttered, ducking his head into his goblet.

"If you shouldn't have a son, Arthur, you have trained Archie to be the best kind of king," Gawain reminded his old friend and former commander.

"Don't tell him that," Arthur chuckled.

"Why not?" Galahad asked, curious about why his king didn't want his Heir to know how proud he was of him.

"We don't need another egotistical child. Lancelot is enough."

Lancelot glared half-heartedly at his best friend, though he couldn't quite contain the grin lurking at the corners of his lips. "I think I resemble that," Lancelot agreed, nodding once.

"You do," all of his friends said at once, each one smiling.

"So, is this all a king does? Travel the world, finding people to make war with? Maybe Spain is the next destination on the list?"

"Is there a group of people to free in Spain?" Tristan inquired lightly.

"Does it matter?"

"Arthur, we did not come to Eire to fight the Romans," Galahad reminded him, before Gawain picked up, "We came to free the Irish."

"Freedom? What use is it to anyone?"

The Sarmatians, once Roman slaves and now free men, stared at their king in horror and confusion. "You're kidding, right?" Galahad demanded, his temper making itself known.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"We have what we have -our lives, our wives and our pride- because of freedom."

"Well then what am I having Morgaine marry you all off for?"

"Because you knew, as did Morgaine, that our lives would have been incredibly lonely without the women we adore, dote on, and spend our lives protecting. They are the shelter we rely on after a fight," Tristan said, remembering the life he'd lived in solitude before Morgaine had married her childhood friend to him.

"The strength we need when we think there is none," Lancelot continued quietly.

"The courage to face what we think we cannot," Gawain said, getting an affirming nod from Galahad beside him. "The women in our lives are examples of everything we think we are not, but that they show us we truly are."

"They are love, honor, pride and freedom," Tristan agreed.

Lancelot grinned disrespectfully, tacking on, "Wrapped in very attractive packages, if I do say so myself."

"Keep your eyes off our wives," the rest of them snapped, playing along with Lancelot's favorite game. After all, it hadn't been more than a decade ago that Lancelot had had a reputation for seducing the women of the other Knights.

"I wonder about Morgaine, though. This thing with Accolon is hitting her harder than it should have," Galahad said, twirling his goblet between his hands.

"She was determined to fight in this battle, while she usually is more than happy to be the healer **_after_** the battle," Gawain agreed, taking a long drink of his ale. "Maybe she too thinks she's coming to an end of her usefulness. After all, except for Accolon, we are all married."

Arthur stared at his sister's husband in horror. "She's my most trusted advisor. She will be useful until I am dead."

"Have you told her that lately?" Galahad inquired, his green eyes very wise.

Arthur stared at him, his own green eyes wide. "I had thought it was _**implied**_."

"Maybe you need to talk to her," Gawain said, knowing that Arthur would be the only one capable of allaying her fears, "before she does something reckless in the pursuit of proving herself to you."

Arthur took a long drink, before setting his goblet down. "After I talk to my sister, we need to have a chat with Accolon. What do you all think?"

"When and where?" Lancelot asked, his jaw tightening as he recalled the barely hidden look of devastation in his sister's eyes from the night before.

The rest of them nodded in agreement. Arthur nodded once, before leaving the chamber in search of his sister. He found her in an upstairs chamber, with a window overlooking all of Sanctuary. She stood there, where you could only see her if you were looking for her, watching Accolon and Sorcha interact. "Morgaine," Arthur called quietly, watching her spin around to face him.

"Arthur? What are you doing here? My husbands said you were in a meeting with them until noon?"

"They imparted some . . . disturbing information, and I thought I should come set it right."

Morgaine's eyes narrowed and she cocked her head slightly in curiosity. "How does this involve me?"

"You are my sister, Morgaine, and I love you as dearly as I have ever loved anyone."

Morgaine jerked slightly, her eyes even more confused than they had been. "Arthur, what is going on?"

"Tell me you don't think I have no further use for you, now that you have married them all off?"

Morgaine's eyes widened as he spoke, unable to deny his words. "I have done the job you asked. What further use could I be?"

"Morgaine, you are my Court Advisor . . . not the King's Matchmaker. Your opinion on your people, the people I rule only by their grace and good will, is more important than your making marriages could ever be."

"That's sweet of you. But what decisions have I ever helped you make?"

"Your spies keep me informed about everything that goes on in my country. Your quiet suggestions hold more weight than any arguing from Lancelot or Guinevere ever have. You think before you speak, and you love your people." Coming to rest his hands on his sister's shoulders, he tilted her chin up so they could look into each other's eyes. "Rhiannon, I am a warrior-king, good at winning battles for my kingdom. But you are a healer. You help me make and keep peace. You are more useful than you will ever know. And I think that is wherein your strength lies. Because you don't know how useful you are, your judgment is unsullied and reliable."

"Arthur, you're a good king. But the way you spoke when you first came in? Don't ever do that again," Morgaine chuckled, getting an answering chuckle from her brother in agreement.

"Why are you letting him get to you like this? He's a child, and a hot-tempered one at that."

"My husband was once a hot-tempered child. They are not always wrong," Morgaine reminded him, unaware that her husbands and her brothers stood in the doorway.

"Thank you, Nazneen," Galahad said, getting a smack from his best friend. "Shut up, Galahad."

"Ow! Nazneen!" Galahad whined, getting an honest laugh from his wife.

"Behave, the both of you." Looking up at her brother, she murmured, "I suppose I just feel like I'm getting old and useless."

"Morgaine, I love you. But I am personally insulted by the thought that you are old and useless. What exactly does that make me?"

"Ancient," Lancelot threw in, aided by Tristan as he added, "Positively pathetic."

"Thanks," Arthur said dryly, getting amused grins from the four Knights at the door. "Listen to me, Rhiannon, we love you. If you ever doubt your usefulness again, I will have you beaten. Am I understood?"

"Useless. Beaten. Got it," Morgaine said, knowing inherently that her brother would never have her beaten and the threat was entirely hollow. "I'd love to see you try."

"I'm sure I can come up with something," Arthur growled, the corners of his mouth turned up in a fond smile despite his best efforts. Morgaine grinned and threw her arms around her brother, her eyes slipping closed at the doting kiss he pressed to the top of her head, whispering, "Come . . . we have a battle to plan."


	97. Chapter 97

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your words mean a lot to me! Let me know what you think about this chapter. Today, we learn more about Accolon's Sorcha.

Chapter Ninety-Seven

_Flashback_

_Though Arthur had known the Roman camp would be walled to outsiders, Accolon had been so excited to do something heroic, he had not waited to hear about the defenses from his commander and king. His surprise at finding the wall had been genuine and he had spent three days secluded in the wall, studying the goings-on from afar, before he came up with the idea to break into the camp. Waiting until a night fell where there was no moon, Accolon jumped the wall and found himself inside the Roman camp. Adrenaline ran through his blood and he grinned as he looked around. Slipping silently through the shadows, he began to gather the information he would need. _

_Several hours later, he was stopped at the sound of screams from a young woman. She was pretty, if filthy, and being viciously manhandled. Tossed back and forth between soldiers, her tears were bright, even in torchlight. He knew then how his Aunt Morgaine had felt when she was in Roman custody, treated as though she was a whore and worth nothing. Even though his heart screamed for him to protect the wench, his head knew that to do so would call unnecessary attention to himself. Turning his back on her and the scene before him, he strode away, losing himself in the information he needed. _

_Two days later, he was starting to regret leaving his pack and supplies back at his campsite. He huddled in an unseen corner of the stables, trying to get warm and ignoring his rumbling belly. And then, there she was, the girl he had seen. She was carrying several apples and was striding toward a stall near his hiding place. Reluctantly, he drew his knife and shifted his position. Her silhouette grew nearer on the wall, and then she was in front of him. Springing into a standing position, he hauled her back against his chest, one hand over her mouth and the other holding the knife to her throat. "Don't make a sound," he ordered, his head swimming at the feeling of her young, toned body pressed full-length against him. _

_She nodded against his hand, though the gentle touch of her tears against his hand made him feel incredibly guilty for scaring her. "I'm going to move my hand. You make even a single sound, and I'll kill you, understand?" She nodded again, taking a deep breath as Accolon moved his hand, though his knife remained at her throat. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded quietly, glancing around for anyone who might have seen their interlude. _

"_I am feeding the mare at the end of the aisle," she whimpered quietly, the sound breaking his heart. _

"_What is your name?"_

"_Sorcha. Please, sir, I can help you," she begged, feeling his body trembling with cold against her back. His stomach growled just then at the sight of the apples in her hands and she held one up. "Are you hungry? I have more, if you are."_

_Accolon stared at the fruit for a moment, before he moved to take it with her free hand. "Thank you," he said, relaxing his grip and releasing her from his hands. Ravenous, he practically devoured it, keeping a watchful eye on her tiny frame. _

_Sorcha watched him as well, cocking her head slightly at his obvious hunger. "Are you really going to kill me?" she asked quietly, her eyes frightened. _

_Accolon narrowed his eyes at her. "No one can know I'm here. I have to kill you to keep the secret."_

"_Are you a spy?" she breathed, her eyes widening. Accolon's jaw tightened. "I won't tell anyone. Please, I can help you if you take me with you."_

"_Why should I take you with me?"_

"_Because if you don't, I can tell the Romans that you were here," she said, her chin tilting upward defiantly. _

"_All right. If you help me, I'll take you back with me."_

"_Who are you?" Sorcha asked quietly. _

"_My name is Accolon. I'm a Knight of the Round Table."_

"_Round Table?" she inquired, remembering fairy tales about such a thing that her mother had told her, but that no one had believed was truly real. "In Britain?"_

"_Aye, in Britain. My king and commander is a man named Arthur."_

_Sorcha nodded, before both of them whirled toward the door as it began to open. "Trust me," she whispered, trapping herself against the wall and pulling his lips to hers, just as Roman soldier entered the stables. _

_Though he knew it was only an act, Accolon's head swam at the feeling of her body under his and her mouth on his. "Well well well, it appears as though you do give it up after all, you little wench," the Roman sneered, slapping Accolon on the shoulders as Accolon's lips moved to caress her neck, keeping his face out of the light and in shadow. "I'll leave you to it, mate."_

_Accolon waved the man off over his shoulder, one hand trailing up Sorcha's thigh and creeping under her skirt. Once the Roman was gone, Sorcha shoved him off. Accolon stumbled, his head still steeped in lust. "What was that for?" he snapped. _

"_It was a way to keep you safe. Nothing more," Sorcha snapped back, grabbing his hand and moving toward the back entrance of the stable. "Come with me."_

_Leading him through the shadows of the camp, Sorcha led him into a lean-to against the outside wall. "You can hide here. The Romans never come here . . . it is beneath their notice. They only accost me in plain view of everyone who will not help me."_

"_You sleep here?" Accolon asked, horrified, looking around at the filth covering the floor and walls._

"_No, just hide here," Sorcha said. "Stay out of sight. I'll find you some leftover scraps from dinner."_

_Accolon nodded and watched her leave. "Gods, I hope she knows what she's doing," he muttered, tucking himself out of sight and waiting silently for her to return. _

_End Flashback_

Late that afternoon, Arthur's army, led by Merlin's lieutenant Briac, arrived in Eire. Arthur strode from the awestruck crowd of Celts, who were staring at the blue-painted men in wonder. So far, the only interaction the Celts had had with Woad tattoos were the ones gracing the flesh of Isolde, Morgaine and Guinevere. Their tattoos, while savage and barbaric, were strangely beautiful and combined with the grace of their wearers, they made the women even more lovely than they would have been without them. On the whole of Arthur's army, however, they were breathtaking and terrible, frightening all those who looked upon them. "Briac, you've arrived."

"I apologize for our tardiness, Your Majesty."

"That's all right. I am glad you are here. Come, we are just planning for battle."

Just then one of Connor's scouts came scrambling into the courtyard of Sanctuary. "Your Highness!" he cried, dropping onto one knee in front of Connor. "The Romans! They're coming!"

"What!?" Connor asked, in horror, before turning to Fergus. "Gather the men. We have to head them off. They cannot find Sanctuary."

Fergus nodded, dashing away. Arthur looked down at his lieutenant. "It would appear, Briac, you've arrived just in time for the fight."

The look on Briac's face was identical to that on the faces of the entire Woad army. Hatred for the Romans, and excitement for the upcoming battle. "Our swords have not had a taste of Roman blood in years, my liege. Do you intend to hold us back?"

"No, Briac, kill them all," Arthur said, nodding once and watching his lieutenant give orders to his men. "Lancelot! Gather the Knights, Morgaine, Isolde and Guinevere! We ride into battle!"

The First Knight nodded, dashing away to collect the rest of the Knights. Turning to their squires, Arthur shouted, "Archie! You and the other boys saddle the horses!"

Archie nodded, gesturing toward the other squires, the five or six boys running toward the stables to do as they were told. Arthur turned to Connor and clasped the young Native Prince's shoulder. "They will not find Sanctuary, Connor. Trust me."

Connor, seeing the resolve in the eyes of the elder leader, nodded and put the fate of his men and his people in the legendary commander's hands. Arthur nodded in acceptance of the honor and dashed away so as to prepare for joining his men in battle.

It was soon apparent to Connor that this battle was no battle. Rather, it was a massacre. Within the hour, all but a small handful lay dead upon the field, their blood soaking the ground. The rest clambered through the trees, headed back to their own camp and safety. Turning to Briac, Arthur ordered, "Send your best trackers after those men. They must not make it back to their camp."

Briac nodded and bowed shallowly, before dropping a lower bow to Morgaine and running off to send scouts after the fleeing Romans. Suddenly, Accolon's voice rang through the tiny clearing, "Aunt! She's injured!"

Everyone turned to see Accolon supporting a heavily bleeding Sorcha. Catlin's eyes hardened and she shouted, "You little traitor!" Seeing Catlin's murderous intent, Accolon shoved Sorcha behind him. "I'm going to kill you, you little bitch!"

Two steps away from them, Catlin was suddenly confronted by the cold steel of Accolon's blade. "You're not going to touch her."

"Says who!? You and that tiny little blade of yours? You're just a boy!"

"Enough!" Morgaine shouted, breaking through the crowd that had gathered at the end of Accolon's sword. "Have we forgotten who it is that we're fighting? There has been enough bloodshed on this field." Turning to her nephew, she inquired gently, "Are you going to let me see her or are you going to let her bleed to death?"

Accolon stared at his aunt, seeing her desire to help. "Aunt Morgaine can see her. Catlin stays back."

Galahad brought up his bow, placing an arrow against the string as he took up position between Catlin and Sorcha. "I'll volunteer to make sure she stays back."

Catlin glowered viciously at the Youngest, hissing, "Watch it, Sarmatian, or you'll be next."

"Only my wife is allowed to call me 'Sarmatian', seeing as she is one," Galahad growled, increasing the tension on the string as he hauled the arrow back a little further.

"I never thought I'd see the day that I'd be happy about their hatred for each other," Morgaine muttered under her breath, her hands gentle as she examined the arrow embedded low in the girl's hip.

Accolon, his attention shifting from Morgaine and Sorcha, to the rest of the Knights, didn't realize that every time he turned, the blade would sing through the air. Leaning to whisper to his scout, Arthur murmured, "Someone should get that blade out of his hands before he chops someone's head off."

"With pleasure," Tristan agreed, moving forward to take Accolon's sword from him.

Seeing the threat, but not who it was, Accolon took a hasty swing at Tristan. Blocking the sword with his dagger, Tristan locked one hand firmly around the boy's wrist. He twisted the wrist sharply and the blade dropped into Tristan's custody. "I'll be taking that," Tristan said, scooping up the blade and shoving it into his belt.

Accolon glared as he turned his whole attention on Sorcha, trusting that Galahad would keep Catlin back. "Is she going to be okay?"

"With a little luck and some lengthy prayers, she should be," Morgaine assured her nephew, reaching up to close her hand around his shoulder. "But your uncle and I do want to know how it is that the Romans came to know where we were, Accolon. The timing is entirely too coincidental."

Accolon nodded, ducking his head. He didn't want it to be true, but the reality was too glaring to ignore. Sorcha had played him . . . and he had given his heart to a traitor.


	98. Chapter 98

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Sorry about the long wait. Everything's been crazy. Let me know what you think! BTW, where is everybody? And still more about Accolon's Sorcha. Enjoy!

Chapter Ninety-Eight

Despite all of Morgaine's best efforts, infection set in before dawn the following morning and Sorcha succumbed to the tortured dreams of a high fever. Having barred the infirmary to everyone not her or her husbands, Morgaine alone sat by the girl's side, wiping the sweat from her brow. The fever had a firm grip on her by that very evening and it was then that Sorcha began to talk.

_Flashback _

_By Sorcha's reckoning, she'd left Accolon's side almost an hour ago. He'd eaten quickly, as though he had not eaten in days, before almost promptly passing out. She figured she had several hours yet before he woke and wondered where she was. Enough time to do what she knew she needed to do, for her parents' sake. Yet, she'd been standing at the door to the tent of Diana, Queen of Ireland, for what seemed an eternity. If she needed to do this, why couldn't she take that first step?_

_Accolon would hate her . . . of that she was certain. But Accolon's hate would buy her parents' freedom. A shiver passed through her body, and though she knew its cause, she tried to convince herself it was the chill in the air . . . nothing more. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and reached out to part the curtains . . . but paused once again. "Damn it, just part the curtains," she muttered to herself, letting her head fall forward on her neck. _

_Unfortunately, she had forgotten she was not invisible. There were guards all over camp, and more than a few had noticed her stationary position before their Queen's door. To her surprise, the flaps before her parted and she sprang backward in surprise at the sight of a Roman standing there. He looked her up and down, obviously trying to figure out whether she was friend or foe, before speaking. "Her Majesty inquires as to why you remain at her doorstep, and yet do not enter."_

_Sorcha's eyes were huge as she stared up at him. She had no choice, now . . . she would have to betray Accolon. May her Gods forgive her. Straightening her spine and lifting her chin, she spoke in a strong, clear voice she hardly recognized as hers, "I can show you to where Connor is hiding."_

_The Roman's eyes narrowed as he looked down at her, before speaking. "I see. Well then, come inside and entertain the Queen with your tale."_

_Sorcha nodded, and followed the guard inside. Diana and her counselor, Longenus were at the head of the tent, with the beautiful Diana reclining on a couch piled with pillows. Diana's nose wrinkled at the girl's filthiness, before she waved her hand. "Stay right there! Then I don't have to smell you. What do you want?"_

"_I can show you where Connor hides, Your Majesty. And in finding Connor, you would also conquer a greater prize."_

_Diana narrowed her heavily painted eyes at the girl, before speaking. "Well, don't stand there like an idiot. Talk! Tell me what this prize would be."_

"_Artorius, my lady, the King from the Isle to the East. He's here, and he's aiding Connor."_

"_And how do you, a scullery slave in my camp, know this?"_

"_One of his Knights hides among your servants, Your Majesty, gathering information useful to defeat you."_

"_How long has he been here?"_

"_Days, milady," Sorcha whiuspered, her eyes downcast as she struggled with the heartache of what she was doing. _

"_Well bring him to me, then! We can torture the location out of him!"_

"_No milady!" Sorcha cried out, bursting forward slightly. "He trusts me. He would take me right there, without even a question as to why I wanted to go. If you just wait and watch, your scouts could follow us to Connor's Sanctuary! Your army would have the element of surprise when it attacked, easily defeating the Irish."_

_Diana's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You are Irish. What do you gain from this?"_

"_Your men have imprisoned my parents for a minor infraction not befitting the punishment. If I deliver to you Prince Connor and King Arthur, I would ask that you release my parents."_

_Diana mused over what she would be losing and what she could be gaining, before she nodded. "Agreed. Inform us when this Knight leaves."_

"_Aye, Your Majesty," Sorcha agreed, heartsick as she backed away and out of the tent. Her hands folded over her chest, her thoughts were dark and heavy as she strode away, "My Gods, what have I done?"_

_Days later, before she had truly had the time to catch her breath, Accolon announced that he had everything he had been sent to get. Throwing herself into her act, she lunged forward and took his arm in both of her hands. "Take me with you. Don't leave me here."_

_Some part of her hoped that he would deny her, but to her dismay, he agreed. Accolon cupped her cheeks between his palms and looked deeply into her eyes, before nodding. "When can you be ready to go?"_

_She thought briefly about blurting her true intentions, before she remembered her parents. And so, with a heavy heart, she spoke, "I'm ready to go now."_

_Accolon nodded, "All right then. Let's go."_

_Sorcha nodded, linking her hand with his and following him away from his hiding place. Keeping up with their established roles of Roman soldier and wench, Sorcha kept her head down as Accolon strode through the camp as though he owned it. It was only as they passed another Roman guard that Sorcha raised her head and looked him full in the face. The man, one of those who had been informed of the girl's intent, only nodded in reply. Sorcha's head dropped again, and she felt shame burn its way through her body. _

_Once outside the castle walls, Accolon led Sorcha swiftly through the trees. His horse and sack of supplies remained where he'd left them . . . in a clearing, not far from the Roman camp. "I apologize for not retrieving a horse for you," Accolon said, as he moved to stroke the mare's neck. "Hello my pretty, any trouble while I was gone?"_

_The horse nickered at the sight of her owner and butted her nose firmly into his shoulder. "Obviously not," he muttered, his hand warm and gentle as he rubbed over the mare's forelock fondly. Turning back to Sorcha, he held out a hand to her. "She won't let you ride her, if she doesn't know who you are."_

"_She's so . . . big," Sorcha muttered, her eyes wide at the size of the warhorse. _

"_She's a horse. They're supposed to be big," Accolon reminded the girl, one eyebrow cocked at her nervous state. "Have you ever **seen** a horse?"_

"_Of course. The Romans have a lot of horses."_

"_Then why are you looking at her like she's a monster of some kind?"_

"_She's so big!"_

"_Yes, we've covered this. Come here!"_

_Sorcha shook her head frantically, causing Accolon to roll his eyes and take a deep breath. Securing the saddle to the horse, and the sack of supplies to the saddle, Accolon glanced about him to be sure he wasn't leaving anything behind. Heaving a heavy sigh, he whirled and grabbed her about the waist, swinging her up onto the saddle before she could do little more than squeak in surprise. Fitting his foot into the stirrup, he swung up after her and kicked the horse into a gallop. Sorcha screamed, terrified, as she threw her arms around his waist and held on. Accolon bent his head and kissed the top of her head. "Just relax. I won't let you fall." Her grip about his waist tightened and Accolon moved to grip her wrist. "Sorcha, it's getting a little hard to breathe," he scolded, panting for air for a second, before he managed to loosen her hold on his waist. "That's better. Close your eyes and get some rest. We'll be there soon."_

_And unbeknownst to Accolon, there were already silent shadows following close behind. _

_End Flasback._

Morgaine sighed as the girl fell silent, obviously wracked by what she'd done. Folding a cool cloth over her fevered forehead, Morgaine felt pity fill her heart. "Oh you poor child. If only we had known."


	99. Chapter 99

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Where is everyone? I haven't seen any reviews in a long time! If you like the chapter, click the little purple button at the bottom of the page and let me know what you think, okay?

Chapter Ninety-Nine

When news of Sorcha's betrayal came to light, Accolon was confined to his room until Arthur, his King, could pass judgment. Bors and Dagonet stood guard, keeping away both indignant fellow Knights and more than a few angry Celts. Knowing what he must do, Arthur walked with heavy heart to the boy's room, musing over what he could do. As he approached, he realized the choice he must make first; did he ignore the boy's guards -one of whom was Accolon's father- or did he pause and ask them to open the door, also opening a way to a bid for clemency? When he stopped, it seemed as though he had his answer. "Could you open the door for me, Bors?"

Bors glanced at his best friend and stepped forward instead. "Arthur, he is only a boy."

"No, he's a Knight," Arthur corrected firmly, turning his eyes on Dagonet, who was the true power behind Bors' plea. "A Knight who told a spy everything there was to know about us, before he could know her intentions."

"Still, he is one of the youngest."

"That, however, does not excuse him. I sent him to be silent and invisible. Not make friends, and especially not with spies."

"Many Knights have made mistakes, Arthur," Dagonet reminded his King quietly.

"And I've punished all of them," Arthur reminded in return. "I must do what I believe to be right, Dag. I'm sorry. He could have gotten us all killed. All of us . . . including our children."

Dagonet looked down and away, the words bringing the face of his youngest little girl, Katherine, who was not quite three. "I understand. But, please, go easy on him."

Arthur looked at his friend and loyal Knight, before heaving a great sigh. "So we understand each other, Dagonet, I love the children of my Knights as though they were my own. They are my neices and nephews, and I have loved every moment of their growing up. But I am the King, as well as their uncle. Justice must be even-handed. I must look to what could have happened, and decide his fate from there."

Bors took a look at his best friend for a mournful second, before drawing back the curtain and letting his liege lord inside.

Meanwhile, Galahad was guarding the infirmary where his wife fought to heal Sorcha. As he waited, his attention appeared to drift from his task. Seeing this, Catlin -who had been eagerly awaiting her opportunity- moved forward to kill the young Irish lass within. She had almost gotten passed him, when a Briton long sword dropped to bar her way and Galahad's voice spoke in her ear, "No wenches allowed."

Catlin scowled at the contempt in his tone, before taking a step backward to look at him. "What did you call me Sarmatian?"

Galahad's eyebrow cocked at the pretty young soldier, before sneering, "What? Are you deaf?" Pausing, he continued, "And I believe we've had a talk about you calling me Sarmatian."

"I will not let you stand in my way **Sarmatian**," she growled, her voice low and dark as she repeated what she viewed as a slur.

"And yet, here I stand," he corrected her with a smirk. "What's your hurry anyway? Let's have a chat, shall we?"

"I have no desire to _chat_ with you . . . Sarmatian."

"Okay, now you're just getting annoying."

"You win . . . I concede. You've been annoying all along."

Galahad smirked lightly, looking down at her with barely concealed distain. "What irritates you more about me, Catlin? That I'm a better shot than you? Or that I'd make a better looking female than you?"

"Well, at least you got the sex right."

"So it **is** that I'm better looking than you!" he cheered, with a wicked smile, deliberately ignoring her slur about his gender.

"I am going into that room, Sarmatian, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Funny that. It looks to me like you're standing still."

Morgaine threw the flap of the infirmary open at that moment, coming to a startled stop at the sight of the two combatants squaring off just outside the door. Galahads smiled at the sight of his wife, greeting her fondly, "Hallo Nazneen. How's the patient?"

"The fever's gone down. She'll be fine," she replied absently, looking between the two suspiciously. "What exactly is going on here?"

"We were just talking," Galahad evaded, leaning over to kiss his wife's cheek fondly.

"Uh-huh. Sure." Morgaine said, skeptically, knowing the relationship of the two too well to believe her husband.

Catlin glowered at them then. "Your husband has no right to keep me out of this room."

"Oh, I think he does. Arthur and Connor have an agreement. No one goes into this room except for me."

"And who ordered that?"

"Me," Morgaine growled, straightening to her full height of 4'9". "You will turn around and go your own way, Catlin. Now."

"Don't worry yourself too much about that one, Highness," Catling hissed as she backed away. "Once she's handed over to the Celts, she won't live for very long after anyway."

Morgaine's eyes narrowed and her voice was low and cold as she spoke. "I am a healer. It is not in my nature to let a person die, regardless of what fate holds in store for them." Looking between them, her voice was firm as she spoke, "As for the two of you, I have decided on how to finish this competeition between you for good."

"Really?" Galahad asked curiously, before Catlin continued suspiciously, "How?"

"For the battle, we'll supply the two of you with arrows. Each of you will have a color that defines each arrow as yours. And when the battle is over, we will count the dead. Which ever has the most kills, will be the victor. Agreed?"

"Works for me," Catlin agreed, glancing at Galahad. "What about you? Or are you too scared to go head to head with me?"

"You're on," Galahad promised, glaring at the ex-slave. "And until the battle, I'll declare a ceasefire."

"Deal," Catlin said, the two shaking hands under Morgaine's watchful eyes.

"Perfect. Sarmatian-love, you know what to do. Catlin, surely you can find something else to be doing, like practicing, rather than darkening my infirmary door. In the meantime, I must find Arthur."

"He went to interrogate Accolon," Galahad supplied for his wife.

"Perfect. Kills two birds with one stone, that," Morgaine muttered as she strode away, leaving the two behind her.

Back at Accolon's room, Arthur was watching his youngest Knight pace back and forth across the floor. He was pretty sure the boy was wishing one of two things: one, that Sorcha was okay; and two, that he was somehow small enoughto escape through the tiny window carved in the stone. With every path across the floor, Arthur could almost see the cogs moving in his brain, almost as though the pacing would yield an unguarded exit from the room.

Crossing his arms, Arthur leaned back against the wall and cleared his throat. So lost in his thoughts, Accolon jumped at the knowledge of another presence within the room. Whirling on his heel, he stared at his King for a long moment, before dropping a hasty bow. "My King," he spoke, his eyes wide in surprise.

"One of these days, you and I are going to have a talk about your treatment of your Aunt. But that day . . . is not today."

Accolon nodded, still bent forward in a formal bow. Arthur rolled his eyes and waved a hand at the teenager, "Stand up. You look ridiculous."

"How is she?"

"I don't know. That would be a question for your aunt. Connor and I have an agreement that no one but Rhiannon and her husbands are to enter the infirmary while Sorcha is a guest there." Seeing the worry in his nephew's eyes, Arthur felt the hardness where his heart resided fade away. "I would love to promise you that everything will be all right, Accolon, but you and I both know that this isn't so. I have no control over her future. Sorcha will be turned over to the Celts, not me. It is up to Connor and Molly to decide her fate."

"We can't let her die! She's only a girl!"

"Who nearly led the Romans right to us. Who was nearly the instrument that murdered your siblings, your parents, this family and you."

Accolon opened his mouth to protest, but could find nothing to say. Arthur was right. And there was little he could argue to the contrary. Nodding, Accolon seemed to slump in on himself. Arthur watched his nephew for a long moment, before he spoke. "I will have to punish you, Accolon."

Accolon's lip curled and he growled out, "I don't care."

Arthur chuckled slightly, before he spoke, "You remind me a bit of your Uncle Galahad."

Accolon's head snapped up at that, his eyes wide at the unexpected confidence. "What!?"

"He too cared little for what happened to him . . . all he ever cared about was his beloved Nazneen."

Morgaine entered the room then, "Arthur, I think we need to talk."

The king turned to face his sister, his eyes narrowing at the look in her eyes. "Morgaine? What's wrong?"

"I've discovered some interesting details from our young prisoner that I think it would do you some good to know."

"And what would that be?"

Turning to her nephew, Morgaine's eyes were sad as she spoke, "Accolon . . . where are her parents?"

Accolon jerked at the question, his eyes narrowing as he tried to recall whether or not she'd ever mentioned them at all. "I don't know." Looking between the two rulers, he inquired, "Should I know?"

Morgaine smiled softly. "Apparently not. Arthur, the Knights await you in Council."

Accolon started, knowing that her younger husband had been Sorcha's guardian since she'd been installed in one of the beds there. "Even Galahad?"

"Yes, I have placed a very trustworthy guard at the infirmary door. No one will enter, I swear it. For the moment, Sorcha is quite safe."

"And who is this guard?"

Morgaine's smile was sweet and beautiful as she replied, "Fergie."


	100. Chapter 100

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Sorry about the long wait. Everything's been crazy. And now reviews for my reviewers!

Babak: You're my only reviewer! That makes me very sad. :( And don't you just love it when Galahad calls Morgaine "Nazneen"? It makes me all warm and gooey inside. And I did notice that someone said that they missed Bergisa and Lancelot. I'll have to keep that in mind for the next few chapters! As for Diane, she's the Roman woman that Rome has made Queen of Ireland. Seeing as Connor is the rightful King of Ireland, the Celtic clans have risen up to try and drive the Romans from the island. Thus where Arthur and his knights come in. I hope you continue to read and enjoy, sweetie. And I promise to try and review more often if I get more reviews. Thanks a bunchness, darling!

Chapter One-Hundred

Briac's men returned to Sanctuary a short while later, as the Roman King and Sarmatian Princess strode to where the Knights and their wives sat in Council. Reporting to their commander, Briac immediately took the report to Arthur. He had just taken his seat between Guinevere and Lancelot when Briac charged into the room. "My King! The scouts bring back dire news."

Morgaine whirled to her father's lieutenant, her eyes wide. "Briac? What's happened?"

"We found tracks, my lady. Another band of Roman pigs. They watched the fight, let their countrymen die, and fled to report our whereabouts."

"Did you pursue these scouts?" she demanded, slipping into the mantle of Merlin's Dark Child easily.

"They were horsetracks, Highness. And there are none among my men who ride as well as you, the Knights and our King."

Turning to Arthur, her eyes widened in horror as her head tilted to the side. "And now what do we do?!"

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, as he leaned back in his chair. "We prepare for battle."

"What about Accolon?"

"He's the least of our problems right now. First let's focus on what to do about these Roman scouts, who have by now reported to their masters."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Lancelot watched his best friend for a moment before speaking. "Arthur . . . we outnumber the Roman dogs four to one. Why haven't we attacked yet?"

"Have you considered what would happen once this battle was done?"

"Of course . . . we'd go home."

"No, I mean to Eire."

"Not really. It's Connor's problem then. He will be king."

"Yes, he will be king. And spend all of his years fighting an unnecessary civil war. There must be a way that we can secure his crown for him peaceably, without another war at the end of this one."

Morgaine sighed, sinking haphazardly into her chair. "Briac, you might as well be a part of the planning. Take a seat."

Briac nodded to his princess and sat down in a chair to the left of her and her husbands. "So what do we do now? The Romans are coming, Sanctuary is compromised, everyone who lives here is in danger."

Arthur leaned forward on his elbows. "Evacuate Sanctuary. Transfer those unable and unwilling to fight somewhere safe, where they'll be protected. For the rest, we head off the Romans. We bring the battle to them. We maintain the advantage, and we win."

"What about Accolon?" Michelle asked, her hand linked tightly in her husband's own. Dagonet's grip tightened around her fingers as she asked the question, though everyone turned to look at Arthur for an answer. "What's to be done with him?"

"I will not be the only one to decide your son's fate, Michelle. He endangered us all. We all should have a say."

"He endangered the Celts as well. Why aren't they here?"

"Accolon isn't a servant of the Celts. He's a Knight of the Round Table. We are the only ones to whom he must answer for his transgression." Looking about the table, Arthur saw the knowledge and resolve on the faces of all that were gathered. "Suggestions are welcome, I assure you."

Lancelot looked about the table, before he sighed. "The way I see it, we have four viable options, with execution not an option at all."

"What other options remain?" Dagonet inquired in his quiet way, just wanting the whole process to be over with.

"Well, we could have someone beat him, but that would put him out of commission, just in time for the battle. And we need every Knight on that field in order to have the advantage. We could wait until after the battle and imprison him for an undetermined amount of time, but I don't think any of us like that idea. We could do what was done to Gaheris and send him questing."

"Accolon's sin is much less grievous than that of Gaheris," Galahad reminded his friend, almost growling out the young man's name. Even though Nazneen's beloved Sarmatian had come to terms with what the squire had done, that in no way meant the squire was forgiven.

"Which is why none of us would send him questing."

"So what does that leave us?" Isolde inquired, her voice calm but with an edge leant by the presence of fear.

The Knights and Morgaine looked at each other, all wondering which would be the one to say it. Finally Guinevere spoke, "The gauntlet."

"The gauntlet! It'll kill him!"

"No, not if we revised the rules a bit," Arthur argued, his eyes sad but resolute.

"How?"

"We use thongs, not clubs. They'll leave their marks, but he won't be incapacitated when the battle arrives." Looking at the gentle giant, Arthur spoke, "Dagonet, of course, will be exempt."

"What about us?" Morgaine asked, though some part of her already knew the answer.

"No, Morgaine, you, Isolde and Guinevere must be within the line. As do you, Lucan."

"I can't beat my own brother!" Lucan burst out, his wife's hand on his arm the only thing keeping him in his seat.

"You must. This isn't an option. Not only will it be his punishment, but it must also be a show for the Celts. They must know we don't take justice lightly. There must be a punishment, and this is both lenient and fair."

Morgaine sighed, before straightening her shoulders. "Are we all agreed then?"

Those seated in Council glanced about, before one by one, they nodded their agreement. Guinevere let out a deep sigh, before speaking, "The only question that yet remains is when."

Arthur cleared his throat and spoke. "Now. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can focus on what we need to do and not what we must do." Turning to Lucan and Mary, he spoke, "If you two would go and prepare Accolon for what's to come, we should take care of this within the hour."

Lucan's jaw tightened, but Mary only nodded, linking her fingers with her husband's and leading him firmly from the room. Morgaine waited until her nephew and niece-in-law were gone, before turning to her brother. "He will not forgive you easily for this, Arthur."

"I know. I'm hoping that Accolon will see sense and explain it to him," the world-weary king sighed, rolling his shoulders lightly and leaning back into his chair. "Now, what's this about Sorcha's parents, Rhiannon?"

Morgaine smiled before speaking. "She betrayed us to save the lives of her parents. The Romans have imprisoned them. Still, from what I could gather from her dreams, her choice was not an easy one. And even then, the final choice was taken from her."

"So what do you suggest I do about the girl?"

"I want to know more about her, Arthur. I believe she may very well be the key to a peaceful union of the tribes under Connor."

"How do you figure?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm sure the answer will become apparent within the next little while."

"Will she live?"

"Aye, she'll live."

Arthur nodded once, pleased by the answer. "Good. He is smitten with her, Rhiannon."

Morgaine sighed, before nodding. "I'll see what I can do." Glancing at her husband, she smirked, before turning back to Arthur once more. "You know, on a lighter note, I've been musing on the thought of Jols' and a second wife."

"And? Do you have a candidate in mind?"

Her smirk burst into full view then, causing Arthur to start chuckling before she'd even spoke. "I think Connor's lieutenant, Catlin, would make Jols an appropriate bride."

The entire council burst into laughter at the horrified look on Galahad's face. Rounding on his wife, he stared at her for a second, before whining, "Nazneen! Why do you hate me so?" Dropping to his knees beside her chair, he looked up at her imploringly, "What can I do to make up the offense? How can I change your mind? Please, Nazneen,** ANYONE** but Catlin."

Morgaine's laughter rang loud through the room as she threw her head back in her mirth. Regaining control of herself, she bent over the arm of her chair and took her husband's face in her palms with a smile. "Relax, my love. I was only joking." Straightening, she looked at Jols. "Actually, I was thinking about Lancelot's sister, Hestia. She is gentle and I rather think you like her."

Jols blushed lightly, but nodded. "I don't love her, not in the way that I loved my Mara, but I could fall in love with her. And Takara adores her, which is the most important part in my opinion."

Arthur nodded, "Then it's settled. Lancelot? Any objections?"

Originally flabbergasted that his widowed baby sister was suggested for a bride, nevertheless Lancelot met Arthur's eyes and shook his head. "I have no objections. Jols would take good care of her."

"All right then. As Britain's king, I am officially announcing the betrothal of the Lady Hestia, sister of Sir Lancelot, to Sir Jols, Knight of the Round Table. Any objections?" The table was silent and Arthur nodded once in finality. "Then it is done. Jols, maybe you and my sister should tell her together?"

"Aye, Your Majesty," Jols agreed, as he and Morgaine pushed back their chairs. Morgaine smiled at her brother as she spoke, "If you would excuse us, Brother?"

"Remember . . . one hour, in the common room by the waterfall."

Both nodded and were gone. Arthur glanced around at those that remained and sighed. "All right, let's get this done."


	101. Chapter 101

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Sorry again about the wait. School and work and other fun stuff! Next chapter! Let me know what you think! And now reviews for my reviewers!

Heart of Shadows: I'm glad you think so. I totally agree. I couldn't find any good stories about Galahad or Gawain; and seriously, what woman can choose just one? I hope you continue to read and enjoy!

Babak: Yay a hundred and ONE chapters! When I first started writing, I never thought it'd grow this far. On to your questions: I actually through Catlin in, just to watch Galahad grovel before his wife. I never would have had her actually marry Jols; can you even imagine how much of a monstrosity that marriage would be? And yes, I thought Hestia and Jols were well suited to each other, too. Yay Jols! There will be more babies and there will be more happy Knights/Ladies time. Just not for a little while. They are in the middle of a war, you know! ;) I hope you continue to enjoy, sweetheart.

heart0nmysh0e: You read the whole story in a day? Wow! I am sorry to hear you were sick, but happy that it led you to Healer. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Keep reading and let me know what you think!

cutteepiee1: I'm glad you like it! Let me know what you think of this chapter, okay?

Chapter One-Hundred-and-One

Lucan and Mary walked slowly through Sanctuary, headed toward the room where Accolon was being held confined. "I can't do this, Mare," Lucan murmured as they walked, his eyes filled with sadness and grief.

"You don't have a choice, Luc," came Mary's quiet voice, her eyes filled with sympathy toward her husband. "I know Accolon's your best friend and I know you don't want to be the one to hurt him, but Arthur -our king- isn't giving you a choice."

Lucan dropped his head down. "Arthur exempted my dad. Why couldn't he exempt me from the same? I don't want to be on the line while my brother runs the gauntlet, Mary."

"I know you don't. But people have to do things they don't necessarily want to do for the good of those around them."

"How does beating Accolon benefit us? Benefit the Celts?"

"Accolon made a mistake and he must make restitution for it. Just as Gaheris made restitution for his own mistake."

Lucan growled low in his throat as he hissed, "Gaheris arranged for the kidnapping and rape of my aunt. He didn't tell secrets to a pretty girl who turned out to be a Roman spy."

"I know," Mary soothed, stopping in the hall and grabbing her husband's hands to halt him beside her. "Gaheris endangered your aunt and her children. . . Accolon endangered us all."

Lucan scowled, though he knew there was no argument against his wife's words. Squeezing his hands tightly, Mary went up on her very tiptoes to kiss him. Her lips and tongue plundered his mouth, forcing his whole attention solely on her. When at last they parted, both were breathing hard and Lucan was visibly calm. "Come my love. We must tell Accolon."

Nodding, Lucan followed his tiny wife to the room where Accolon was being detained. Accolon stood at his tiny window, his arms folded over his chest as he gazed down in the common room. The sound of the curtain that served as his door brought his head around. At the sight of his step-brother and best friend, he allowed a small smile to curve the corners of his lips. "So, Luc . . . have they decided what's to be done with me?"

"You're going to run the gauntlet, Accolon."

Accolon was silent for a long moment, his eyes moving back to the window. "Clubs?"

"No, thongs," Mary corrected lightly, "Arthur doesn't want to do too much damage. After all, there's a battle on the horizon."

Accolon nodded slightly, musing quietly, "That's better than I thought it would be."

Lucan spoke then, his voice quiet. "Arthur's ordered me to be on the line."

"Good," Accolon remarked casually, causing Lucan to burst out, "Good!? What the hell do you mean by that!? They exempted my dad . . . "

"They exempted Dagonet for my mom's sake. You have to be on that line, Luc; Arthur can't play favorites here."

"You're being a lot more accommodating about this than I thought you would be," Lucan muttered, glaring at his brother.

Accolon shrugged haphazardly. "I don't particularly care about what my punishment will be . . . I just want Sorcha to be safe."

"She nearly got us all killed, Accolon!" Lucan snapped, throwing up his hands.

"I know," his best friend remarked quietly, "but nevertheless, I'm in love with her."

Lucan glanced at Mary, before sighing heavily, "Uncle Arthur wants us to help you prepare for the gauntlet."

Accolon snorted derisively. "Prepare how? All I need to do is to strip my shirt and let my family beat me."

Mary reached out and touched her brother-in-law's arm. "I'm sorry, Accolon."

"Don't be . . . it was my stupidity that got me into this mess in the first place."

There was a sharp sound from the door, causing the three occupants to turn toward the door. Galahad and Gawain stood at the door, both look uncharacteristally solemn. "Accolon . . . " Galahad began, his eyes dark with grief, " . . . it's time."

Accolon nodded, gripping the hem of his shirt and hauling it up over his head. Straightening his shoulders, he stared forward resolutely. "Good . . . I don't want to wait any longer."

Walking past his best friend, Accolon paused for a moment. Reaching up, he laid one hand on Lucan's shoulder, squeezing it hard. "Lucan, would you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Accolon."

"Don't flinch. Swing hard, for my sake and for the sake of our King."

Lucan looked stricken for a moment, horrified that his friend could ask that of him, before he took a deep breath. "All right . . . I will."

Accolon nodded once, before following his uncles from his cell and down into the main room of Sanctuary, where his family stood, waiting, already assembled in two lines. The Celts stood about them, watching the scene with curiosity and interest. Arthur stood between the columns, watching his nephew in silence. Coming to stand before him, Accolon straightened his shoulders, looking straight into his King's eyes. "I'm ready."

Arthur nodded once, before speaking, "Then let us begin."

Galahad, Gawain, Lucan and Mary took their places within the lines, as Arthur drew back to stand with Dagonet and Michelle. Taking a deep breath, he called out, "We are here to carry out the just punishment decided upon by his peers, against Accolon, Knight of the Round Table. His crime is endangerment of his King, his family and his fellow Britons. He shall forthwith run the gauntlet." Turning to Accolon, he spoke, "You may begin when ready."

Squaring his shoulders, Accolon took a deep breath and charged into the lines. The thongs stung and whipped at his flesh as he ran, though he slowed as he neared his brother. Lucan was fidgeting with his thong, his eyes downcast. _Come on, Lucan, _Accolon prayed silently, _you can do this._

Just as he moved parallel, Lucan lifted his head and brought the thong down hard. Accolon fought not to lose his footing, as the force nearly sent him to his knees. Finally, he was past the end of the line, and his Aunt Morgaine was there to catch his fall. Arthur's voice was strong, as he declared, "And so he is absolved."

Despite his uncle's words, Accolon still felt the weight of his helplessness on his shoulders. He was absolved . . . he was not free. He still felt the burden of his deeds, the weight of Sorcha's doom, upon his shoulders. Until she was free, neither would he be free. He had brought her to Sanctuary . . . he alone was responsible for her fate. Morgaine wrapped her arm around her nephew's waist, coaxing him gently to his feet. "Come along, love. Let's get you cleaned up."

Galahad and Gawain each took an arm and guided their nephew to the infirmary. At the sight of his beloved on her tiny cot, Accolon's resolve once again firmed. Guided to sit upon his own bed, Accolon swore silently to her motionless body, _I will save you . . . I promise._

Despite his promise, even he knew that for the time being . . . there was nothing he could do.


	102. Chapter 102

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. 

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Two

All too soon, Sorcha was well enough to go before the Celtic counsel and be judged. Still weak, she nevertheless stood alone before Connor and Molly, as accusations were railed at her from an enraged Catlin. "Connor, she must die! She brought the Romans right to us! She's a traitor to everything we have fought for!"

Morgaine, in an effort to save the girl, spoke up. "There are always extenuating circumstances, Connor. This instance is no different."

Connor spoke, his voice distressed but resigned, "I know all about her imprisoned parents, Your Highness. But she still betrayed us all." Glancing at his newly-wedded wife, he reached to take her hand in his. "She nearly brought about the destruction of everything I hold dear." Turning to face Sorcha, he spoke again, "You have only tonight . . . tomorrow, you will be executed, in accordance to our laws and those of the Druids. My wife will absolve you and oversee your preparations for tomorrow."

Though her face wore an expression of great sadness, Sorcha nevertheless bowed before her prince. "I understand, Your Highness. I thank your lady for her guidance and her counsel."

Turning, she was led back to the infirmary by Fergus and Tully, where Accolon sat, waiting for the decision of the tribunal. Settling onto her bed, she stared at the ceiling, listening to Accolon's breathing in the bed opposite. "Well, what happened?" he asked, holding his breath in fear of her answer. 

"I am to be executed . . . tomorrow."

Accolon's eyes flew wide, before he sat up. "Then we must leave this place. Immediately."

Sorcha turned to look at him. "And go where?"

"Anywhere!" he cried, fear and anxiety lending him strength. 

Tristan spoke up from where he'd been standing silent at the door. "Listen to her, Accolon. You'll never be able to return to Britain . . . you won't be able to stay in Eire . . . and Rome isn't an option. Have faith in us, in your family. We'll do what we can to save her."

Accolon, knowing that his uncle would never lie to him, nodded. "All right. But if you haven't managed to do anything by tomorrow, I'm taking her away from here."

"Tomorrow, we'll have some more pieces of the puzzle," was all Tristan said. "Stay put and have some faith. I promise, one way or another, she will be safe."

Nodding, Accolon pushed himself to his feet and moved to sit beside Sorcha. Tired and scared, the pretty Celt leaned into his warmth and strength. "I don't want to die, Accolon."

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Accolon moved to reassure her. Tristan, seeing his nephew's confliction, spoke instead, his voice low and reassuring. "You have my word, little one . . . you will be spared the executioner's blade."

Nodding her head resignedly, she watched with a tiny smile as Tristan swept a rather gallant bow at her, before sweeping from the room. Seeing Galahad, Gawain and Morgaine in private conference, he veered toward them. Morgaine looked up at his presence, gifting him with a dazzling smile. "My husbands are planning a rescue, brother. Mayhap you would be interested in joining them?"

"Rescue, madam?" he inquired pleasantly, though his eyes sparkled with knowledge. "Indeed I am interested. Who's included in this party?"

"Galahad . . . and you."

Tristan smirked, his lips curving into that devilish grin that his wife so adored . . . and their enemies so feared. "Count me in. Galahad might need rescuing himself, if we sent him alone."

"Hey!" Galahad protested, though Gawain commented dryly, "That's what I said."

"When do we leave?"

Morgaine glanced around her, before pitching her voice low enough for only them to hear. "You leave immediately . . . that is an order from your Princess."

Both men bowed slightly, their hands fisted over their hearts. "As you wish, Your Highness," both murmured agreeably. 

Leaving Galahad behind to bid his wife farewell, Tristan went in search of his own better half. He found Isolde with Guinevere, the two women sparring together easily. Worried about spooking her, but nevertheless needing her approval, he called out lightly, "Iso!"

"Hold!" Isolde called at the sound of her husband's voice, the two women breaking apart. "Trist!" she cried happily, stabbing the blade deep into the pliant earth and dashing to throw her arms around him. Looking deeply into his eyes, she sobered. "Tristan, what is it?"

"Morgaine is sending Galahad and me to retrieve Sorcha's parents. She believes that the girl's parents are also the keys to her freedom."

Isolde brushed one of her husband's braids from his eyes, smiling lightly. "All right . . . be safe. Don't die."

Bending his head, Tristan kissed her sweetly. "Kiss the children goodnight for me. And tell Desirée that I'll tell her all about our amazing adventure tomorrow, I promise."

"I will tell them. Now go, before the Celts and Arthur suspect what is going on. You know that Arthur will not allow you to enter the Roman camp without him."

Tristan nodded again, his hands tight around her upper arms as he hauled her up for a devastating kiss. "I love you, Iso," he murmured against her lips. 

Her voice was weak and breathy with lust as she replied, "And I love you, Tristan. Go . . . quickly."

Releasing her, he spun on his heel and headed toward the stables. Galahad was already there, saddling his horse. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Tristan smirked as he swung up atop his stallion, "Lad, I was born for this."

Swinging up onto Dar, Galahad glared at the older man. "I am no lad."

Tristan laughed out loud, kicking his horse into a brisk canter, before calling over his shoulder, "Prove it!"

Growling low in his throat, Galahad set his heels to Dar's flanks and hurried after him. Alone and unnoticed, a young woman watched them leave. Her ebony head dipped forward and her crystalline eyes slipped closed as she sent up a fervent prayer to her Gods. _Protect them . . . for all of our sakes. And may they be successful in their task. _


	103. Chapter 103

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Sorry it's been so long. I will try to update more frequently. In the meantime, here's the next chapter.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Three

Having been released from the infirmary by the Sarmatian Princess, Sorcha was moved into a tiny cell on the ground floor of Sanctuary. When Molly arrived to help her prepare for her execution at dawn, she found the younger woman praying to whichever God would listen for mercy. Leaving the girl in peace until the end of her prayers, Molly at last cleared her throat as Sorcha straightened. Sorcha swiveled to look at the Celtic Princess, smiling sadly at the sight of her there. "Are you ready?" Molly inquired, dressed in the formal garb of a Druid priestess.

Sorcha nodded and stood. "Aye. Thank you again, my lady, for your guidance tonight."

Molly smiled at the young girl, seeing the barely concealed panic and desperate fear. "Come . . . let's get you washed and anointed for tomorrow."

Sorcha nodded and turned her back to the woman, letting Molly unlace the back of her gown. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sorcha shrugged and allowed the gown to drop into a puddle of fabric at her feet. At once, Molly sucked in a breath. There, blazoned across the girl's shoulderblade was a red rowan branch, with a cluster of red berries at the base. Reaching into the bucket for the sponge, she moved to cleanse the girl's back. When the mark would not be erased, Molly inquired lightly, "Who did you say your parents were?"

"My father is the Muir, and my mother is the youngest sister of the MacLaughlin," came her quiet reply, as she let the princess wash her back.

Molly's eyes slipped closed in horror as she finally understood the consequences of what they were about to do. Remaining silent through the rest of the ritual, Molly helped the girl into a pristine white gown, the fabric covering the tattoo, but unable to completely hide it. "Come child . . . pray with me," she instructed, helping the still weak young woman to her knees before the candles that had been lit for the vigil they would now observe.

As she recited the familiar prayers of absolution and forgiveness, her mind worked feverishly to come up with a solution for the disaster they had found themselves in should the young girl be executed. At last, the room went quiet as each settled onto their haunches to observe the passing night in silence. Seeing a shine out of the corner of her eye, Molly turned her head and, at the sight of the token, knew what it was she had to do.

Letting her eyes drift shut, she sagged forward as though she had been called unwillingly into a vision. Sorcha, grateful for the woman's kindness, reached out to catch her as she slumped. Frantic hands smoothed over the woman's face and Sorcha's voice rose the alarm as she called for the guards to help with their soon-to-be Queen. "What happened to Her Highness?" one demanded, grabbing the girl's arm and shaking her roughly, heedless to her sobs. "What did you do to her, little traitoress!?"

Sorcha shook her head in fear, her eyes wide as she pleaded, "I did nothing, milord. I don't know what happened. She was fine and now she's like this." Flinching deeply as his grip tightened further on her arm, she sobbed, "Please . . . you're hurting me."

Drawing a dagger from his belt, he growled at her, "I'm going to do more than hurt you, if you don't tell me what you did to her!"

"No! Please!" she screamed, struggling to free herself as the guard moved to slice open her throat.

Molly, who had been fighting to remain still during this, moaned then, trying to make it as convincing as possible. Allowing the other guard to assist her up, she ordered, "Leave the girl, unless you wish Badb to cleanse your garments within the River of the Otherworld."

He let go of Sorcha with an alacrity that would have surprised Molly if she didn't know just how superstitious the Celts were by nature. Looking up at the man who had assisted her, she thanked him demurely, before speaking, "Please. Send for my husband and the Briton King. I have seen a vision, and it bodes ill for us all if we do nothing."

It felt like seconds . . . it felt like an eternity. All Molly knew, as she continued to formulate her words, was that one moment her husband was not there and the next, he was. Kneeling before her, dressed only in his breeches and covered in sweat, Connor took hold of her upper arms and held her away from him gently. "Molly, what is it? What's happened? Are you all right?"

Molly smiled at the small fear lurking in her husband's chocolate eyes as she smiled at him reassuringly. "I am fine, Connor." Gesturing toward where Sorcha remained crouching on the floor, she spoke, "We cannot execute her, Connor, or it will bring the curse of the Morrígan upon us."

Connor stared at her for a long second, seeing the marks of a lie, though he did not say anything about it. If Molly was telling him this, there was a good reason for it. He'd let her tell her story, but once they were alone, he'd demand the truth. "Go on; tell me what you saw."

"I had a vision. I saw the Morrígan; Namhain, Macha and Badb. I saw them right out that door and I stood to go to them. There was a chill in the air and I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I left the room to stand with them."

"A chill?" asked one of the guards in an awed voice. "It's the middle of summer."

"Aye, but it was cold in their presence. Once outside the door, I saw more than I had seen before. The goddesses were standing beside the Otherworld's river and Badb held a soldier's garb in her gnarled hands. She held them out to me; they were stained in gore and blood. Her eyes were dark and forbidding as she told me that the garments she carried belonged to whoever killed the girl. It would be a curse upon all of our heads to execute her now. It would be certain death for the one who killed her."

"She's a traitor, Molly. We have to execute her!" Connor reminded his wife, his hands tightening slightly about her slender arms.

"Macha smiled at me, with her pretty youthful face, and told me that justice would be enacted. But it must wait until the battle was over- and maybe, in that time, we would come to realize that we could not execute her at all."

Arthur glanced at the girl, noticing that her pristine dress had dirt stains about the knees where the guard had dropped her into the dust and there were teartracks along the curves of her sweet face. "Be that as it may, we cannot leave her here. Even were we to announce this, there are those that will wish her dead, regardless of any curse."

Connor nodded, glancing at the girl. "Aye, that is true. So what do we do with her?"

"My Knights and I will take custody of her. She'll remain with Morgaine, until such a time that her execution will become prudent."

Molly smiled up at the Briton King; this could not have been going any better than if she had planned. There was nowhere safer for the child than with Arthur and his Knights. Not even the bravest or most foolhardy of the Celts would attempt to suborn their protection. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Just Arthur will be fine," the man sighed, holding out a single hand to the girl. "Come with me, child. We will take you somewhere safe."

Sorcha nodded, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Swirling his cloak from his own shoulders and around hers, he pulled the hood up to cover her hair and face, and led her from her cell. Connor, sensing the need to continue the charade, swooped his wife up into his arms and carried her away. "Tell others what you have heard. No one is to attempt the life of the traitor, until after the battle is over."

The two guards nodded, bowing slightly to their prince, watching him carry his wife away. Once they were safely in their own chambers, Connor set Molly on her feet and gripped her shoulders. "All right, Molly, cut the shite. Why can't we actually execute the girl?"

"She's a Muir, Connor."

Connor's eyebrow shot up slightly. He'd heard of the Muir's, of course. They were one of the leading clans in Eire. "And?"

"She's the daughter of THE Muir."

"And?"

"And!? Connor, if we execute her we'll be going to war with the Romans and the Muirs. It'll be civil war! Her mother is a MacLaughlin, her father is The Muir. That means that her uncle is The MacLaughlin and her grandmother was a MacMahon. Three of the most powerful clans in all of Eire, and she's descended from them all. And you're seriously asking me why we can't execute her!?"

"Well, when you put it that way. I would like to see my coronation."

"The guards will circulate the story of my 'vision'. We've made sure of that. Sorcha will be under the protection of Arthur and his Knights. We have until after the Battle is over to find someway to protect her permanently."

Gathering his wife in his arms, he tucked her under his chin as he stroked her long brunette hair. "It'll be days till then. We'll think of something."

"I hope you're right, Connor; because otherwise this could end badly for us all."


	104. Chapter 104

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Four

Morgaine was going to kill her brother, her confidante, her king. What the hell was he thinking stashing the girl with her? She had more important details to be worrying about than some tiny slip of a girl with a execution hanging over her head. The other Knights could tell she was angry. Lancelot went out of his way to avoid her; Arthur hid from her altogether; and Gawain was praying fervently for Galahad's return.

That night, after dark, his prayer was answered. Arthur received his two Knights and their bounty in the Council chamber, narrowing his eyes at them. Glancing from Tristan to Galahad and back again, he inquired absently, "Do I even need to ask who sent you?"

"I don't know. Do you?" Tristan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a rare mischief.

"How did you find them?"

"They were in Diana's camp. It was really all a matter of getting in without getting caught; finding the prisoners; stealing some horses and getting back out without getting caught. It was insultingly easy, as a matter of fact," Tristan recounted, whittling idly on a fresh apple.

Isolde sighed from her place to Arthur's left. "How many of them did you kill, Tristan?"

Tristan's head cocked to the side as he considered the question. "I don't rightly know. I think I lost track around fifty."

"Didn't we say to wait until we knew who our enemy was before you went all homicidal on everyone?"

"Well, there were those wearing armor and carrying swords. And then there were those who did not wear armor or carry swords. Generally, I was killing the former sort." Giving his wife a cheeky grin, he taunted, "Shall I wait for them to cry out 'Enemy!' next time?"

Isolde dropped her head into her palm, struggling vainly to hide her grin. "Oh Trist, what am I going to do with you?"

"You might find me a draught of ale. I'm rather parched at the moment." Taking a great bite of his apple, he swallowed hastily as he remarked, "Oh and did I mention? Galahad here can actually handle a bow." Galahad's only reply was a single finger flipped in his companion's direction. Tristan chuckled and continued on as though he had not seen. "Didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me the lad was bloody useful?"

Galahad's look was dry as he rebutted, "I'm not a lad."

"I almost had him carrying our horses," Tristan joked, amused by his king's chuckles.

"Tristan . . . I hate you."

"Well I'm right fond of you. What kind of gratitude is that?"

"Gratitude!? You nearly got me killed in that damned camp . . . " there was a pause as Galahad considered, before bursting out, "TWICE!"

"Oh quit your whining lad. If I ever do get you killed, Galahad, then you'll have a reason to complain."

Galahad shook his head as he remarked, "If you ever get me killed, I won't be the one complaining. It'll be my wife, with a blade to your throat."

Tristan's whole demeanor dropped at the reminder and his eyes went thoughtful as he mused, "Forgot about that. Hate to be on the receiving end of that temper tantrum. Right, no more risks that could get you killed."

"I'm much obliged," Galahad muttered dryly, startling slightly as a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist. Placing his hands over hers with a deep sigh, he murmured, "Nazneen."

Her lips pressed gently to his shoulder, as high up as she could reach. "Hello my love. How was your mission?"

Tristan leaned over to Galahad, muttering, "Tell her it was good. We're buddies right?"

Galahad turned to glare at his brother-in-arms and replied to his wife, "It was fine."

"Then why are you glaring at poor Tristan?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to kill him."

Morgaine straightened slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Why would you need to have me make such a promise? What did he do?"

"Don't think I can tell you love."

Sensing the Dark Child's impending mood shift, Tristan reached out and grabbed his wife. "I've missed you. Save me."

Isolde chuckled. "Put your foot in it again, have you, love? All right . . . Morgaine, I'm going to take my husband to bed. You'll know where to find us."

"I hope you intend to have him bathe first," Morgaine inquired, her nose wrinkling slightly at the scent that emanated from both Tristan and her own husband. "They both smell rancid."

"I love you too, Nazneen," Galahad muttered, watching as Tristan lifted an arm and took a whiff.

"Still, lad, I see what she means," Tristan remarked, looping his arm around his wife's tiny waist.

Galahad rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he insisted forcefully once again, "I'm NOT a LAD!"

Ignoring Galahad completely, Tristan turned a charming grin on his wife. "Maybe my lady love will help me wash my back?" Tristan inquired cheekily, his eyes bright as he stared down at her with all the love he held for her shining there.

"I think I can do that," Isolde giggled, turning to her childhood friend. "I'll see you later, Morgaine."

"You too, Isolde. Have fun . . . don't do anything I wouldn't do?"

"And just what wouldn't you do?" Isolde giggled, her eyebrows going up and down suggestively as she let her husband lead her away.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Morgaine asked to her friend's back, before huffing a sigh as no reply came back. Rounding on her husband, she demanded, "Am I going to have to kill him?"

Galahad shrugged, "No . . . yes . . . no. I don't know."

Arthur sighed, "Galahad, tell us what happened."

"Well it was a lot like he said. We went in, killed a lot of Romans, almost got killed, found the prisoners, killed a lot of Romans, almost got killed, and got back out. This time . . . with two extra people."

"Almost got killed? I knew I was gonna have to kill him." Morgaine muttered.

Galahad gave his wife a dry look, "I'm sorry, love. Next time, we'll break into the enemy camp safely."

"Shut up," she muttered in reply, growling at him. "You don't even know the torture I've been through while you've been gone."

"Yes, I do, love."

"How!? Did you know that Arthur assigned me to watch our little Celtic traitor? Did you know that she's been tripping over my heels like some little lost puppy on a string? Did you know that she's been driving me crazy!?"

Quailing in the face of his wife's fury, Galahad stammered, "Well, I know that now."

"Damn it, Sarmatian! Get out of my sight before I kill you!"

Gawain was on his best friend's heels as Galahad obeyed without being told twice. "And now you know what I've been dealing with since you've been gone."

"I heard that!"

"Stop talking," Galahad ordered his best friend, his dearly-beloved wife's dearly-beloved second husband, as he picked up speed, "Just run."

Turning to his recent guests, Arthur took in the state of their appearances. Turning to Archie, his Heir and one of his squires, who was staring in awe at his irate mother, he ordered, "Kindly see about some food and new clothing for our guests."

Archie bowed slightly, careful to remain formal in front of those who did not know the closeness of the Knights of the Round Table. "As you wish, sire."

Huffing at the formal title, Arthur waited for Archie to go before turning to his sister. "Rhiannon, sister, kindly plot to kill your husbands later. We have more important issues to worry about now."

Morgaine took a deep breath and spoke in a frosty tone that Arthur rarely heard, "Yes sire."

"Rhiannon!" Arthur exclaimed, exasperated. "Don't frighten our guests. They're not used to your fiery rages."

Forcing a charming smile, one that filled Arthur with fear for the lives of his two Knights, she turned to face their guests. "I do apologize for my indecorous behavior. I am Princess Morgaine, called both the Dark Child and the White Lady of Britain. This is my brother, Artorius Castus, better known as King Arthur of the Round Table. May I inquire as to who we are addressing?"

"First you can tell me where my daughter is," the woman insisted, the dark eyes so like Sorcha's Morgaine thought she was looking at the young Celtic spy.

"Your daughter is safe. Who are you?"

The man took up the refrain next, introducing the two with a quiet grace that Morgaine almost envied. "I am Shanahan Muir, the Laird of the Muirs, one of Eire's most powerful Clans. This is my wife, Riona MacLaughlin. Her brother is The MacLaughlin, another of Eire's Clans."

Morgaine's eyes were wide as she rounded on her brother. "Arthur . . . brother . . . we have a problem."


	105. Chapter 105

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: WOW! I am so sorry! Gosh guys, I'm a terrible person. In my own defense, I've been floundering under my coursework. I graduate in May, and everything's just going south from here. But, I do have a couple new chapters for you, so hang on and enjoy the ride, huh?

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Five

Arthur's eyebrows lifted to his hairline as he stared at his sister. "Okay . . . what's the problem?"

"Arthur, the Celts want to execute her. Remember?"

"I don't see how that's our problem," Arthur muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Not our problem! Remember the whole concern about civil war?" she exclaimed, her midnight eyes flashing lightning as she stared at her brother.

"What the hell do you mean the Celts are going to execute my daughter? Over my dead body!"

"Get in Catlin's way, it could happen that way," Morgaine muttered furiously, trying to work out a way to avoid Arthur's worst fear for Eire.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his sister. "What do you propose to do about it? She's a Celt! Not a Briton!"

"I have an idea . . . but you're not going to like it," Morgaine replied, nibbling nervously on her thumbnail.

"Okay, what's your idea?"

"Marry her off to Accolon?" she asked.

"You're right, I don't like it," Arthur replied dryly.

"I demand to see my daughter! First you're talking about executing her and then you're talking about marrying her off! Is anyone going to ask our opinion?" Shanahan broke in, before his wife continued, "And just what has she done to deserve execution?"

"She lead the Romans straight to Sanctuary, in exchange for your lives."

"She's just a little girl protecting her parents. If you kill her . . . " Shanahan threatened, to which Morgaine burst out, "Hold a moment. I didn't say I was going to kill her! I'm trying to save her! Shut up and let me think!"

"Who's trying to kill her then?"

Morgaine glanced at Arthur, before speaking, "No one, at the moment. She's under the protection of the Morrigan, specifically Babd . . . or so the Crown Princess Molly insists." There was a pause, before Morgaine breathed out, "Oh my goddess, she knows."

"Knows what?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowed as he watched his sister.

"Molly knows that Sorcha is the daughter of The Muir. It's why she put a halt on the execution. She knew that Connor would be forced to civil war if Sorcha was put to death. She knew!"

"How would she know?"

"She was there to anoint and absolve Sorcha the night before her planned execution. If there is some mark on Sorcha, declaring her family, Molly as a Druid would see it and know." Rounding on the spy's parents, she demanded, "Is there something that marks your daughter as yours? Somewhere on her body that you could see?"

"There's a tattoo of a rowan tree, our family symbol, on her shoulder. But it's covered by her dress; it's not easily visible."

"But if she was being bathed . . . "

"It would be hard to miss," Riona agreed, with a shallow nod.

Morgaine grinned, "I have good news. No one is going to execute your daughter."

"Thank the Goddess."

"However, she has to get married. To a Briton, specifically a noble Briton . . . and even more specifically, my nephew Accolon."

"I'm confused," Shanahan breathed out, his eyes wide as he stared at the obviously powerful young woman before him.

"That's fine. Be confused, just remain silent and confused while I work out the details."

"Actually, Rhiannon, I'm a little confused too."

"Arthur, try and keep up. We have to marry Sorcha to Accolon to make her a Briton and put her under our protection. No one is going to kill a Briton; that would put the Celts without you, their most powerful ally. Okay?" she asked, her eyes wide and her voice young, as though she was explaining something complicated to her children. "Okay."

Riona was staring at the young woman, her eyes wide as she struggled to understand what was going on. "Is she always this . . . sporadic?"

"Well, yes, actually." Catching a murderous glance from his sister, Arthur almost immediately changed his mind, "Well, no, not really."

"Nice save there, brother. Honestly, the things I do to preserve your crown. Sarmatian!" she bellowed, her face turning red with the effort to be heard throughout the Celtic stronghold. "Get in here! And bring Gawain with you!"

Galahad was standing with Gawain and Lancelot when the scream from their wife reverberated through the common room. "Sarmatian!"

Flinching, Galahad turned to Lancelot. "Did you hear anything?"

Lancelot smiled at his friend, "Don't look at me. I'm not in this."

"Sarmatian! Get in here!" came the call again, this time from closer to their position. "Sarmatian!!"

Rounding on Lancelot, he insisted, "You never saw me!"

Seconds after Galahad ducked behind a barrel against the wall, Morgaine stormed into the room. "Lancelot, where's my husband?"

"I have no idea, Morgaine," he said, his eyes flickering slightly.

"Lancelot, don't make me hurt you. Where is my husband?"

"He's behind the barrel! I'm sorry I lied. Don't hurt me." Backing away slowly, he called, "Sorry Galahad, you're on your own."

"Sarmatian, unless you would like to be sleeping alone for the remainder of our marriage, get out here!" she ordered, thunderheads rolling through her cobalt eyes, her fury flashing like lightning across the pupils.

Galahad took a deep breath and stood from behind the barrel. Glaring at Lancelot, he hissed, "Traitor." Turning back to his irate wife, he murmured, "You called?"

"Several times in fact," Morgaine ground out, the warrior garb adorning her frame emphasizing the side of her the Knights so desperately feared. "Why were you hiding from me, love?"

"Last time I saw you, you were on a murderous rampage."

Morgaine slouched, "Oh. I had forgotten about that."

Gawain muttered, rolling his eyes slightly, "Smooth move, Galahad."

"Are you still angry with me?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know. In the meantime, we have a wedding to plan."

"You're marrying someone today?" Galahad asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Of course. That's generally what happens when you plan a wedding."

"Nazneen, there's no one left."

"Don't be ridiculous. There's Accolon."

"Who's in love with Sorcha?" Galahad reminded her, the question more of a statement than anything else, "He's not going to take lightly to being married off."

"He won't mind this. Please go find my nephews and bring them to me. I have to find the bride."

Almost as quickly as she appeared, Morgaine was gone again. Galahad turned to Gawain. "Do you know what's going on?"

"I'm just as clueless as you are."

"I'm not sure what she means by 'we' have a wedding to plan," Galahad muttered, turning to face Lancelot in confusion. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure I want to get in the way of her rage. Anyway, I'm really not sure. But if what I'm thinking is the thought that she's thinking, then what she's thinking . . . what I'm thinking she's thinking is that . . . " Lancelot muttered, giving his companions headaches as his thoughts ran around in circles in his head.

"Get to the point!" Gawain insisted, glaring at the First Knight.

"Catlin's not going to be happy," Lancelot remarked.

"That's good!" Galahad burst out with ivy eyes alight with glee, before he sobered, "Why not?"

"I can only think of one girl that Accolon would be pleased to marry," Lancelot remarked, waiting to see how long it would take for the husbands of the Dark Child to catch on to their own wife's thought process.

Gawain's eyes suddenly went wide as it hit him. "Oh."

Galahad looked between two Knights, confused, before inquiring, "What am I missing?"

"Who is Accolon in love with, Galahad?"

"But he can't marry her; she's going to be . . . Oh!"

"Exactly."

"This place is going to be a battleground before the end of the night. Do you think Connor and Molly know?"

"Connor was in the dark about his own marriage, so it's highly likely the answer is no."

Simultaneously, all three of them breathed out, "Oh no!"

Lancelot rounded on the two. "Seriously you two need to put a leash on your wife."

"And what purpose would that serve? Why give her something to hang us with?"

"Don't you two have nephews to find?"

"They're your nephews too," Gawain reminded him with a tight smile.

"I know that; I'm just trying to stay out of her warpath."

Galahad muttered lightly, "Aren't we all? All right, off to find Accolon. Where should we look first?"

"Here's a better question. Where will we find Sorcha?"

"Morgaine would know," Lancelot reminded the Dark Child's husbands.

"I thought we were trying to avoid Morgaine at this point?"

"Galahad, she's your wife. How long, exactly, do you think you can avoid her?"

Galahad shrugged haphazardly, "I don't know. I just kind of envisioned us finding Sorcha; having Catlin there; the two of us getting into a duel; killing her and having us all live happily ever after."

Gawain chuckled, "How long have you been dreaming that up?"

Galahad grinned wickedly. "A rather long time."

Lancelot rolled his eyes as he let out a heavy sigh. "And they say I'm the immature one. Here's a better plan. Let's go find Dagonet."

Gawain grinned, "I always knew if we kept you around long enough, you'd come up with a good idea eventually."

Lancelot's growl was audible but ineffective as the two men turned away, laughing at his expense. "I hate you both."

"We love you too, Lance," they laughed before they split ways outside the door, each heading toward a different section of Sanctuary and both in pursuit of Dagonet.


	106. Chapter 106

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Here's chapter two of the three chapters that I'm uploading for today. Please let me know what you think about the chapters, individually. I like knowing what I've done well and what I need to work on. Thanks a bunch.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Six

Shortly after separating, Gawain found their nephew and dragged him off toward the room inside Sanctuary that Arthur had temporarily designated the meeting room for the Council of the Round Table. Morgaine had found Sorcha and they were waiting there, along with Sorcha's parents and the rest of the Knights and their wives. Glancing around at the scenery, Galahad muttered to his wife, "Not really much of a wedding chamber."

Morgaine smiled lightly, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. "At this short notice, it's not really much of a wedding ceremony either. But it'll do the job."

"At least the Celts won't be barging in anytime soon."

"No, they'll just assume we're in Council. They'll find Arthur when we're done."

Gawain nodded, reaching up to smooth back his wife's hair. "I'm assuming we're forgiven?"

Morgaine's eyes were bright blue as she smiled up at him. "You're always forgiven. I'm sorry about yelling. What with everything that's going on, I'm just getting a little stressed out. Forgive me?"

"We're your husbands, Lady. If you can't yell at us, who can you yell at?" Gawain reminded her with laugh. "I think we should go reassure Accolon. He's looking a little lost."

Morgaine nodded, glancing at her nephew. "Have you told him?"

"Kinda skipped that part."

"Explains why he's lost. Go on, I have to talk with the bride."

Gawain and Galahad each bent to kiss their wife's cheeks, before moving toward their nephew. They joined their fellow Knights at his side and Gawain reached out to slap the younger man on the back. "So, you're finally getting married, Accolon . . . Congratulations."

"I'm what?" Accolon asked, his eyes flying wide as he looked between the men who surrounded him.

"This is your wedding, Accolon. Sorry we didn't tell you, we had other things on our minds at the time," Bors laughed, slapping his back with a boisterous laugh. "Now, where's the ale? There will be ale right? Come now, don't be stingy. You only get married once."

"What are you bloody talking about?!" Accolon burst out, before turning to look up at his step-father. "Dad, what's going on?"

Dagonet just shook his head as Galahad burst in, "Didn't anyone tell you?" Almost seconds later, he chuckled, "Oh right; that was our job."

Lancelot looped one arm around Accolon's shoulders as he announced, "You and Sorcha are getting married, so that the Celts can't execute her. Congratulations! You have a bride!"

"What?"

Lancelot's head dropped forward as he shook his head slightly. "Confused was appropriate two minutes ago. Now it's time to be happy! Give us a smile!"

"I'm just . . . "

"Seriously, lad, confused is not how you should be feeling right now. It's your wedding! This is the part where you're happy and smiling and not looking like we're dragging you to an execution . . . You do love her, right?"

"Heart and soul," Accolon confessed with a shy smile.

"Then be happy. Morgaine found a loophole that's going to keep her alive. At this point, you dance a jig, say your vows and take the girl to bed. Any further questions?"

"No?"

"Fabulous! We would have told you sooner, but this way, you're still dazed and relatively malleable. You won't resist at all as we walk you down the aisle."

"No! No, I won't!"

"Won't what? Resist or protest?" Galahad inquired his emerald eyes narrowed as he watched his nephew.

"Either one!"

"Good," Gawain chuckled, before turning to Galahad. "You're not really going to use this as a way to one up Catlin again, are you?"

Galahad's grin went wicked as he stared at his best friend. "I hadn't even thought of that! This is perfect!"

"You're serious? You hadn't thought of that already?"

"No, I was . . . I was afraid of Nazneen and caught up in the plans and . . . I didn't really have time to think about it. But this . . . this is perfect!"

Gawain groaned low in his throat. "Ah hell."

Accolon's eyes were narrowed as he looked between his two uncles. "Doesn't Catlin know?"

"Not yet," Galahad refuted, a wide grin splitting his face in two as he plotted on all the ways he could make her miserable with the knowledge that she couldn't touch Sorcha . . . and all the ways he could torture her by knowing something she didn't. "It's like a holiday! Like a special present all for me, for no real reason at all!"

"If she tries to harm my bride, I'll kill her," Accolon growled low in his throat, his eyes dark and serious.

"A wedding ceremony is no time to be thinking about bloodshed, Accolon. The reception on the other hand . . . "

"Sarmatian!" Morgaine scolded, coming up behind them and causing the Knights to jump.

"Bloody hell! Where did you come from?" Galahad asked his eyes wide as he stared down at the diminutive frame of his wife. "You weren't there a second ago."

Morgaine tapped her foot lightly, smiling indulgently up at her husband as he began to babble adorably. "Sarmatian, shut up."

"Yes, Nazneen."

Sighing heavily, she inquired, "Are you done?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Accolon, get your butt up to the altar so I can marry you two, okay?"

Accolon nodded, all but lunging away in his haste to make Sorcha his bride. Rounding on her husband, Morgaine spoke in a harsh tone, "As for you . . . " Galahad shrank back slightly as she lifted her hands to hold his cheeks between them. " . . . have I told you yet today that you're adorable and I love you?"

"I don't really know. But it never hurts for you to say it twice."

"You're adorable and I love you."

"I love you too." Galahad told his wife, grinning down at her brightly.

Arthur smiled at his sister, before sobering. "Let's get this done, okay? Briac gave me the word that the Romans are advancing on our position. We need to get to the hill, before we lose the advantage."

Morgaine nodded, rounding on her heel and heading toward where the betrothed couple stood patiently. "I'm sorry I can't give this wedding my usual attention, but the battle will shortly be upon us and we don't have the time to make it a drawn out affair. Do you Accolon take Sorcha to be your wife?"

"I do."

"Do you Sorcha take Accolon to be your husband?"

"I do."

"Then in the sight of the Goddess and these witnesses, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, Accolon."

Leaning forward, Accolon dipped the girl backwards and kissed her with all the love and passion he held in his heart for her. Bors grunted drunkenly, "Good Goddess, that boy can kiss. Vanora, I'm inspired!"

Vanora only looked up at her lover with a dry smile. "Who says I am?" Narrowing her eyes at him, she inquired, "And how are you already drunk? The wedding just ended. Hell, it just started!"

"Oh, it must be I'm drunk on happiness!" he announced, turning away and taking a swig from the tankard in his hands.

"Or on pilfered ale," Vanora scolded, reaching out and stealing the tankard and sloshing ale onto the stone floor. "I will not have you going into battle drunk, my love. So I suggest you sober up quick before I have Dagonet douse you in the horse trough."

"You wouldn't!"

Vanora's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, getting into his face and personal space. "Watch me."

Eyes wide, Bors insisted, "I'm sober."

"I'll bet."

Arthur glanced at the Woad lieutenant standing at the back of the room. Briac had his spies keeping an eye on the Romans, as well as a sizable portion of the Woad army holding the hill until Arthur and the Knights arrived. Glancing at his nephew, he clasped him on the shoulder. "You don't have much time. However, she's not under Briton protection unless the marriage is legal."

Lucan spoke up. "And the marriage isn't legal without consummation. Come on, Accolon. Mary and I set up our room for you two. We'll stand guard and keep the Celts away for as long as we can."

Accolon smiled at his step-brother, his best friend since the first time they ever met. Holding out a hand, his grin grew as Lucan clasped his forearm. "Thank you, brother."

"You're welcome. Come, we have precious little time," Lucan insisted, turning to his wife and leading the newly wedded couple from the room.

Sighing heavily, Morgaine looked around the rest of the room, seeing all of those she loved so fiercely. Arthur moved to stand upon the dais beside her and turned to face his Knights. "The rest of you, prepare for battle. In an hour . . . we go to war."

Tristan grinned evilly, slicing a piece of his apple from the core. "All right, gents. You heard the man, let's get to it."

Isolde sighed, "Remind me to put a leash on him before I let him go into battle."

"You think that'll help?" Guinevere teased, her eyes sparkling as the Woad women moved after the Knights toward the door and their own preparations.

"No, but it's the thought that counts," she sighed, before the women broke off.

Morgaine and Arthur alone remained behind in the room. Arthur looked down at his sister, seeing the ever-familiar fear for her loved ones in the midnight blue eyes. "Are you all right, Rhiannon?"

"We're going to make it out alive, right, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled down at his younger sister. He forgot sometimes that she was so young; she'd just passed her 28th birthday. Despite everything she did for their family and all the things she had sacrificed over the years, she still counted on him to keep them all safe. Tucking her close to his side, he pressed a brotherly kiss to the top of her head. "I can't promise that, Rhiannon, you know I can't. But I have faith that we'll all see the end of the conflict soon enough. In one way, or another. Go on and get ready; you've earned your place on this battlefield."

Morgaine nodded, her eyes troubled as she moved toward the doorway. Stopping once there, she turned back to look at him, "In case I don't get to tell you later . . . I love you, my Fire-Brother."

Arthur smiled, remembering when they had given each other those designations. "And I love you, my Fire-Sister. I'll see you soon."

Morgaine nodded once and disappeared from the door well, leaving Arthur alone with both his hopes and his fears. Glancing up at the ceiling, Arthur murmured a silent prayer, "Please God, protect the ones I love. Give them the strength to win the day. Give them the opportunity to see tomorrow. May they all come out alive. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Ghost. Amen."

Crossing himself quickly, Arthur took a deep breath and left the council room. He could afford to give Accolon and Sorcha an hour together; he had an hour to ready himself for battle.


	107. Chapter 107

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Here's chapter three of the three chapters that I'm uploading for today. Please let me know what you think about the chapters, individually. I like knowing what I've done well and what I need to work on. Keep in mind, that some of the words we use now were not used then, but I have little control over how my muse wants them said. With this in mind, all flames _**will**_ be used to make s'mores. Thank you and have a nice day.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Seven

Half an hour later, Galahad was all set to go. His wife had helped him with his kilt, leaving the two blushing and giggling as she wrapped it around his turning form. The pads and armor had come next, before Galahad had sat back to watch Morgaine get into her own kilt and leather brassiere. It had been a long time since the last time Morgaine had worn her scarred and beaten armor and it never failed to stir his blood to see her in it. The quiver holding his arrows was strapped to his back and his bow was fitted comfortably in its carrier attached to Dar's saddle. Currently, he was waiting for Morgaine to finish lacing up Gawain's boots and the Trio would be ready for war.

Standing off to the side, he watched the Celts prepare for battle as well, before catching sight of Catlin also off to the side alone. Grinning sadistically, he approached the Celtic archer. "Hello Catlin," he greeted her, all the while with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

"Irritating voice, putrid smelling body, it must be . . . oh hello, Galahad."

Not letting his grin falter, Galahad continued on as though he hadn't heard her, "Fine weather for a battle, isn't it? You have your arrows?"

"Why? You forget yours?" she asked, reaching back to pull a siren red arrow from the quiver at her back.

"Nope, got 'em right here," he said, still grinning as he reached back to play with the pale green feathers decorating the arrows his wife had painted ivy green to match his eyes and identify the arrows as his.

"Why are you smiling, Galahad?"

"No reason . . . that you'd know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing . . . that you'd know."

Drawing her knife from its sheath at her belt, she held it up level with his eye as she threatened, "Tell me, or I'll carve it out of you."

"Uh-uh, Catlin, we declared a truce remember?" he reminded her, watching as her eyes narrowed slightly, before reaching out and clasping her on the shoulder companionably. "Have a nice day, Catlin."

Catlin watched the Knight go, her lips pressed together before she burst out, "Connor!"

Connor turned to face his lieutenant and grinned at the steamed look on her face. "Is something wrong, Catlin?"

"He's . . . grinning!"

"Yes. And?"

"He knows something, Connor. And I'm going to find out what it is!"

"Catlin, you've always been an amazing warrior, one of my best lieutenants. This is why I'm going to pretend you haven't dropped off the edge of the map, and go back to preparing for battle. Once you've come back to reality, I would appreciate it if you'd help Molly evacuate the civilians, okay? Thank you." Turning back to finish his preparations, he muttered, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with her."

Another half an hour later, Britain's Knights stood off to the side, waiting for Lucan and Mary to retrieve the newlyweds. Arthur had given them all the time he could manage; the time for war was upon them. Accolon and Lucan came towards them, both dressed in full armor and both with hard looks in their eyes. This would be the first real test for both Knights. Neither had ever fought a real battle before, only minor skirmishes with Saxon invaders. Arthur was pleased to see that neither looked anxious or nervous. Both were aware of what could happen and both were ready.

Turning to his Knights, Arthur spoke. "You know the plan. Briac split your men and take your positions. Guinevere, Isolde, both of you will be in command of the guerilla companies. Morgaine, gather your archers. Knights, mount up. We go to war."

Grabbing Galahad before he could mount Dar, Arthur pulled him aside. "I have something I need you to do."

Galahad's green eyes stared into his king's own, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's going on, Arthur?"

"I need you to kill Longenus."

Galahad cocked his head slightly in question, before remembering the source of that name. "The Roman commander. The one they say can't die."

"We need to demoralize them at the beginning. We outnumber them, but I know the Romans. They'll fight till there's no hope left. Killing their leader should confuse them sufficiently should things go south, especially if they have no one else to lead the charge."

Galahad nodded his eyes serious. Arthur smiled grimly; Galahad knew what he was supposed to do and the price it could cost him to complete his task. "Does my wife know about this?"

"I think that it would be best not to tell her; the more focused she is, the less likely it is that she'll allow them to harm her." Clasping Galahad's shoulders between his palms, Arthur shook the Youngest lightly. "Everything counts on Longenus' death. Don't fail me."

Galahad shook his head. "I won't fail."

"Good . . . go. I'll distract your wife."

Galahad nodded, peeling out of his armor and grabbing up three quivers of his arrows and his bow, before sneaking out the side entrance of Sanctuary. Gawain saw him leave, but didn't say anything. Galahad was well-trained in espionage; unless he was off to do something monumentally stupid, he'd be all right, at least until Gawain could rescue him.

Turning to his scout, Arthur grinned. "Tristan!" he called, making sure he had the man's attention. Tristan's arms were around his wife as they said their goodbyes, so Isolde could lead one of the flanking Woad companies into their hiding places.

"Yes, my king!"

"You have my permission to kill them all!" Arthur shouted with a wide grin.

Tristan's grin matched Arthur's own as he bowed slightly. "My king, I thank you!"

Isolde looked up at him with wide eyes. "Just make sure you come home to me, all right?"

Bending, he captured her lips with his. "I'll be fine. You be safe."

Isolde nodded, before the two released each other and went their separate ways. Arthur was also saying his goodbyes to his Woad warrior-woman. Guinevere was tracing her husband's face with her fingers, her eyes tender as she watched her husband disappear and the warrior-king take control. "Stay safe, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, bending to kiss her. "You and I will have more children, Guinevere, you have my word."

Guinevere nodded with a sad smile. "We'd better," she declared, kissing him quickly before moving toward the company she would be leading.

Calling out to stop her before she left, Arthur shouted, "Guin, I love you!"

Guinevere rounded to face him, her eyes sparkling with tears and love as she shouted back, "I love you, Artorius Castus!"

Watching her leave, Arthur turned his attention to the rest of his Knights. Michelle, Vanora, Bergisa, Mary, Sorcha and Hestia would be fleeing Sanctuary with the Celts, keeping watch over the Briton children and preparing a makeshift infirmary for when the wounded began to trickle in. Each of his Knights was saying their goodbyes, while those that had already said them were waiting impatiently for the battle to begin.

Lancelot and Bergisa were bickering bitterly, as Lancelot fondly ran his fingers through her hair. Bergisa's eyes were filled with love, refuting even the cruelest words that came from her mouth. "I hate you, you know," she told him, her eyes shining with the effort not to shed her tears.

Lancelot lifted her to her tiptoes, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I hate you too, my own. I'll see you soon."

"You have even one rent in your thick hide and I'll kill you."

Lancelot chuckled softly, bending to whisper in her ear, "You promise?"

"Absolutely," she insisted, her eyes fierce as their lips met in a fiery kiss.

"Look after the children, and give them each a kiss for me," Lancelot insisted, brushing back a strand of her hair from her eyes. "I love you, Gisa."

"I love you, too, Lance. Be safe."

Lucan and Mary stood off to the side, Lucan's arms firmly around his wife as he tried to calm her tears. "Everything's gonna be okay, Mare," Lucan murmured into her hair, smoothing back her hair as she kissed her forehead.

"You haven't been Knighted that long, Lucan. And we haven't been married that long either!"

"Mary, you have to trust me. Arthur wouldn't have knighted me if he didn't think I was ready. I'll be back before you know it."

Mary smiled up at her husband lightly, looking painfully young, several years younger than her 17 years in fact. "I can't lose you, Luc."

Lucan bent and pressed his lips to his wife's own, letting his lips say all the words his voice couldn't express. Pulling away from her, he promised, "You won't."

Accolon and Sorcha were facing their own separation at least a little better than Mary and Lucan. They'd been wedded and bedded for less than an hour . . . the reality of it all hadn't really sunk in all the way yet. "You'll be back?" Sorcha inquired, her eyes very wide as she looked up at her new husband.

"Of course. You'll be here when I get back?"

"I'll be waiting," she promised.

He kissed her sweetly, before he grabbed the reins to his horse and swung up. "Stay close to Mary. She and the others'll protect you."

Sorcha nodded, watching him silently as he rode toward the other Knights where they waited at the entrance to Sanctuary, each mounted and each waiting on the only Knight still saying his goodbyes. Jols looked at his betrothed, seeing the tight grip she had on his daughter's shoulders and the tears she had in her eyes. "Hestia . . . I . . ."

Knowing that he was trying to calm her fears, Hestia immediately shook her head. "No, don't say anything. You're going to be back, Jols; you have a little girl who's counting on you."

Jols nodded, touching Takara's head fondly though his eyes stayed locked on Hestia's. "Look after Takara," was what he said, but what he meant was, _Take care of yourself_.

"I will," was what she said, but what she meant was, _I love you._

Leaning forward, he brushed a sweet kiss –their first- to her lips. "I'll see you both soon."

Both of his beautiful women nodded, standing together as he mounted up and joined his fellow Knights at the entrance to Sanctuary. Arthur looked around at his Knights, his brothers-in-arms, these men he'd known for so long and felt great pride well up in his heart. Smiling sadly, he announced, "Knights! It's time!"

None of the Knights looked back to see, but each of them who were leaving someone behind knew that the eyes of their wives followed them until they could no longer be seen. And in those women's hearts were prayers for the safe return of their men.


	108. Chapter 108

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Again, I'm a terrible person. I mean, I don't even have any excuses this time. I just forgot. I'm gonna try to be a lot better about uploading, I promise. Either way, thanks to everyone who has reviewed in the last four months and to everyone who's continuing to read despite my flakiness. Enjoy this chapter, okay?

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Eight

The sun wasn't even ready to rise when Arthur and his Knights arrived atop the hill that would be their position for the battle to come. Morgaine had been silent, though her mind was on her Youngest husband and where he had disappeared to. Turning to her second husband, she inquired, "Gawain, my love, where's Galahad?"

Realizing that Galahad had slipped deliberately unseen from the caves, Gawain tried not to let his own worry color his voice as he spoke, "I don't know. I saw him speaking to Arthur back at Sanctuary, but I haven't seen him since."

Taking a deep breath, Morgaine then turned her attention on her brother. "Arthur?" she called softly, trying not to give away their position.

"Yes, Rhiannon?"

"Where is my husband?"

"He'll be joining us for the battle. Don't worry Morgaine."

"Don't worry?! Have you met my husband?" she asked, her eyes rolling as she considered all the ways that Galahad had managed to get injured in peacetime, let alone wartime. Suddenly, a thought struck her and she narrowed her eyes at her brother. "Why won't you tell me where he is?"

"He'll join us later."

"If he were safe, you'd tell me where he was," Morgaine insisted, lightning flashing in her eyes as she started to get angry. "Arthur! Where is he?"

"I sent him on a mission."

"What kind of mission?"

"The kind where he's hiding behind enemy lines."

"What!?" Morgaine burst out, as Gawain spoke, "What is that supposed to mean? Why is he behind enemy lines?"

"He has an important target, one that I'd only trust to him."

"Who? And how important?"

"The commander."

"Longenus?!" Morgaine shouted in a whisper, her eyes going wide as she stared at her brother.

"Yes, I believe that's the name of the commander."

"You sent my husband to kill the Roman commander? That's suicide!"

"If the plan holds, by the time he's discovered and taken the shot, we'll be already to him."

"If the plan holds! You know how well plans hold in battle!"

"They don't!" Gawain put in, his eyes going dark as he imagined all manners of bodily harm on his king and friend at risking Galahad's life like he was. Almost immediately after the thought crossed his mind, he pulled himself to a stop, surprised by the fierce well of love and protectiveness that had taken hold of him on behalf of his wife's Youngest husband.

"We have them hopelessly outnumbered, but I still have to consider the lives of my warriors. If Galahad can kill the Roman commander, their leaders will be in chaos and the men will lose their will to fight as they start to get cut down right and left."

"You don't know that. There's still their queen," Morgaine reminded her brother coldly.

"And the Romans are well-disciplined. You know that Arthur! You are Roman! Even without their commander, they'll fight. You sent Galahad into hell!" Gawain insisted, reaching out absentmindedly to hold Morgaine stationary as she began to fidget atop Mary-Megan, in turn making the horse antsy with her rider's anxiety.

Morgaine took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger. "However, there's nothing to be done about it now. If we go in for him, we'll only put him in danger. Best to leave him and let him do what he must to stay alive."

"Galahad will not miss the shot. And he will make it back," Arthur said, trying to reassure his sister.

"I hope to the Goddess you're right, Arthur," Morgaine remarked, her eyes desolate as she stared back at the line of Roman soldiers at the bottom of the hill. "Goddess, I hope so."

Galahad's temper had reached it's breaking point by the time he'd managed to find a respectable hiding spot. "Gods damn you, Arthur. You better reach me in time, or Nazneen's going to kill me." Musing on that thought, he brightened considerably as he realized that once Morgaine was done killing him, Arthur would be next target for her rage. Stretching out on the cold ground, he settled in for a long wait.

Much to his surprise, he didn't have to wait as long as he originally thought. The muffled sound of Roman footsteps that had been building all day was suddenly upon him, and he shrunk further into the brush. Nocking an arrow on the string of his bow, his eyes were in constant motion as he scanned the ranks for his target. He'd almost given up hope that Longenus had shown up to his own war, when he spotted the red robed commander at the rear, beside a throne borne on the backs of four slaves. Galahad's eyes narrowed as he considered the consequences of killing an unarmed woman. Granted, he would happily put an arrow in Catlin if she were unarmed; but that was Catlin. Deciding that the outcome was worth the residual guilt, he considered how best to kill both leaders while he still had the advantage of surprise.

Once he was certain both were in range of his bow, Galahad stood as stealthily as he could manage, mentally thanking Tristan for his lessons in espionage. Drawing back the nock, he concentrated on solely this one job. The sounds of marching men and Woad warrior cries faded from his consciousness, seconds before he released the arrow and let it fly. A direct hit; the arrowhead sunk into the vulnerable cavity of Longenus' right eye. The commander collapsed instantly, dead before he knew what hit him.

The queen screamed, drawing the attention of her lieutenants. Hastily drawing another arrow and nocking it against the string, Galahad took aim at the shrieking woman. The Roman soldiers had spotted him and he could hear them advancing at a hurried charge. Forcing himself to drown them out, he pulled back and let his second arrow fly, bring up the bow with just enough time to deflect one blade and rip his sword from his scabbard with his other hand. Another sword flashed out, and Galahad cursed as he countered clumsily, staggering as white hot pain slashed through the fleshy part of his upper thigh.

Dimly, Galahad registered the cessation of the queen's screams. Both were dead, and with their deaths the hopes of the Irish swelled.

Gawain and Morgaine were furious and hacked away at their opponents with single-minded determination. Morgaine had seen Galahad take the hit and both could see him floundering under the continued blows. Finally deciding that enough was enough, Morgaine stabbed both blades viciously into the Roman before her, taking her bow from its place at her back. Nocking an arrow, she let it fly at the man who had driven her husband to the ground. The arrow pierced effortlessly through the back of his head and out through his eyeball, causing the body to convulse in death throws that the soldier would never feel. Rounding on her eldest husband, Morgaine barked, "Cover me!"

Gawain nodded, slashing at the men below him as Morgaine leaned over and ripped her blades from the dead man at her feet. Spurring Mary-Megan into a gallop, she descended upon the cluster of soldiers like an angel of death, come to take their souls to hell.

So intent were they on Galahad, that none saw her approaching until it was too late. One soldier looked up and stared in horror at the sorceress bearing down on them. The White Lady of Britain was well known for her goodness . . . and her violent temper when her husbands were threatened. He didn't even have time to pray for his immortal soul, before his head was rolling at his feet and his body collapsed in slow motion to join it.

Morgaine's rage was so total and so complete that she hardly noticed the minor injuries that the Romans inflicted upon her body. Gawain was suddenly there, leaning almost completely out of his saddle and hauling Galahad to his feet and then onto the Brute behind him. Shouting for his Lady to retreat, he turned to spur his horse toward their own lines. An arrow stabbed through his thigh and deep into the saddle leather, effectively trapping Gawain onto his horse for the remainder of the battle. Gawain did little more than grunt, his hands jerking slightly on the reins and causing the Brute to rear, squealing and with hooves flashing. Grabbing onto where Galahad's lifeless hands had been forced into his belts, he kept his brother-in-arms on the back of the horse purely through strength of will. He forced Brute to a standstill, continuing toward the relative safety of the Celtic lines and the healers that awaited their injured.

Even as he fled, Gawain glanced back over his shoulder, watching his wife reach deftly for her belt. Thrusting the wick into a fire left behind by one of Guinevere's fire arrows, she tossed it into the swarm of Romans and whirled Mary-Megan away, escaping mere seconds before a hot gush of wind blasted into their backs.

"Tell my brother, I'm sorry," she shouted to her husband, as she rode to engage her next enemy.

"Tell him yourself!" Gawain shouted back, insistent on not getting between Morgaine and Arthur when it came to the forbidden fireballs. "Arthur's gonna kill us," he muttered, before Galahad groaned in bitter – if barely conscious – agony. "At least he will, if Morgaine doesn't kill him first."

Back at Sanctuary, amongst the preparations to evacuate and relocate the old and infirmed, the banished Gaheris was sitting – forgotten – in his cell. The Knights were already at the battlefield, and their Ladies had been among the first to evacuate. There was none to turn him away, when young Brian – a handsome lad of some twelve years – came across the young man inside the cell. "What are you doing in there?" the boy asked, curious about why Gaheris was still locked up when everyone else was preparing to flee.

"I am waiting to stand trial."

Brian nodded sagely, his eyes firm as he watched the other boy through the bars. Turning, he looked for the keys and found them hanging on a hook on the wall. Opening the cell, Brian stepped back and spoke again. "There's no one coming back for you, and if you stay, the Romans'll only kill you. I'd get gone if I was you. Good luck!" the boy shouted over his shoulder before he disappeared again from the room as quickly as he'd come.

Hardly able to believe that he was free, Gaheris pushed open the cell door and stepped into the open air. It was the same air it had been inside the cell; freedom made it taste all the sweeter. Grabbing up a blade, Gaheris moved to do as the boy had instructed and get gone before either the Knights came back or the Romans swarmed Sanctuary.

The sound of battle and men dying was audible from the entrance as Gaheris considered his options. The terrain to his back was rocky and hazardous; the paths toward either the battlefield or the evacuation site were probably the safer routes to freedom. Moving easily, he jolted as he heard something that did not belong amongst the dead and dying.

The sound of a child's innocent laughter.

Spinning around on one heel, he stared at the sight of Morgaine's five year old youngest daughter – the dark haired one with Galahad's chaotic curls and piercing ivy eyes – running from her eight year old brother – the handsome boy as sable haired and navy-eyed as his mother – the two children giggling as they played. Neither was aware of the danger they were in; the twelve year old blond haired and blue eyed girl dashing desperately after them, however, was.

Gaheris knew that girl; he'd know his brother's daughter instantly. Sanora, the light in his older brother's eyes, born of the only true love of Gawain's life. Clenching his jaw in frustration, he stared longingly toward the path to freedom, before spinning on one heel and lunging after her. "Freya! Ryan! Stop!" Sanora cried, her dress hiked up to her knees with her bare feet fumbling over the uneven path toward the deafening sounds of war.

Gaheris ran much more easily, but by the time he'd caught up to them, they'd already reached the battlefield. Sanora had managed to snag the back of her brother's tunic and the belt of her sister's dress, hauling the two of them into her embrace as her frightened eyes scanned the chaos around her. Sanora had not seen a Roman since they'd been rescued; the sight of so many now brought a chill to her skin and she sobbed as one turned toward her, leering lustfully.

She screamed, terrified, pulling her siblings closer to her. Having deposited a half-conscious Galahad behind the lines, Gawain and Morgaine were again in the thick of the fight. At the familiar scream, Gawain ripped his horse's head around, his sky-blue eyes staring in horror at his children. They were too far away; he'd never be able to get to them in time. "Lady!" he bellowed, trying to draw the attention of his consort as she hacked her way through the endless line of legionnaires.

Morgaine twisted to face him, her own features tightening in fear at the sight of her defenseless children. Both fought fiercely to get to them, despite knowing that they'd never make it in time to save them. Both were convinced that every Knight and Woad in their army was occupied; it was a surprise to both when Gaheris leaped between their children and the advancing Roman legionnaires. Both Morgaine and Gawain redoubled their efforts to get to their children, using the time that Gaheris' sudden appearance had bought.

Gaheris was mortally wounded, but still fighting, when the married couple finally came to his aid. Morgaine leapt from her horse, slicing effortlessly through flesh with both blades, as Gawain hacked off heads from his place trapped in his saddle. Soon the Romans lay dead in a pile at their feet and Gaheris felt his strength give out, his body moving in slow motion toward the ground. Morgaine caught him easily and lowered him gently to the ground. "It's all right, Gaheris. We'll get you to the healer's tent and Molly will be able to heal you."

Gaheris shook his head firmly. "Are they all right?"

"Yes, thanks to you, they're fine. Thank you, Gaheris, for your courage in defending them."

Gaheris gasped for air, feeling his lungs start to tighten as he fought against the inevitable. "Leave me. Take the children to safety . . . you don't have much time."

Though both adults wanted to argue, both knew he was right. The slice through Gaheris' gut was deep and mortal; there was nothing Molly could do. The least they could do was honor his dying wish. "Sanora, get your brother," Morgaine ordered, pulling the three children to their feet. Gawain hauled the two children into the saddle before him, Ryan held tightly in his big sister's arms, while Morgaine hefted Freya onto Mary-Megan. Bending, she gripped Gaheris' shoulder tightly. "Go with the Goddess, Gaheris . . . you fought honorably today. She will accept you with open arms."

"Morgaine . . . I am sorry."

"Shh, do not think about it. We, my husbands and I, forgive you. Thank you, for the lives of our children."

Unable to do anything else, Morgaine straightened and forced her foot into her stirrup, swinging up behind her youngest child. Holding her tightly, she smiled once more at the dying boy before kicking her heels into Mary-Megan's flanks and riding away with her husband on her heels. "Go with the Goddess, Gaheris . . . may you find the peace you seek," she whispered to the sky, before focusing on getting her children to safety. She tried not to notice the pain on her husband's face, Gaheris' brother's face, as they rode away and left the boy to die.

It was the only thing either of them could have done.


	109. Chapter 109

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Wow! I am so sorry that I have taken so long to get this next part written. I have no excuses, other than school, work, other projects, boyfriends, homework, midterms, etc. I'm going to upload 3 chapters to make up for it. But I'm going to warn you, I don't know when the next time I'll be able to upload will be. I mean, honestly? I decided that taking 12 credits during a one month SUMMER session was a good idea. That's 6 classes, everybody. Man, I must have been nuts.

Chapter 1 of 3

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Nine

When the Romans were down to fifty men from the original fifteen hundred, they surrendered. The Woads had lost maybe a hundred men and Galahad was the most grievously injured of Arthur's Knights. The Roman Queen and her commander were dead; for the time being, the war was over.

Morgaine had blistered the backsides of her two youngest children, before remanding the three distraught children to a battle-blackened Archie's care. The almost-fifteen year old squire had fought bravely, escaping from the field with very little injury. Morgaine hugged her kneeling son tightly to her, whispering words of thanks to the Goddess into his hair. "I am very proud of you, my darling."

Archie grinned up at his mother, his embrace fierce about her waist, "Thank you, Mum. How're Dad and Papa?"

Morgaine's lips compressed lightly. "As soon as I know, you'll know Archie. Get cleaned up, take your brother and sisters to join the other children and then go find Arthur. There is much to do, and not enough hands to accomplish everything." Archie nodded, standing gracelessly and bending to kiss his mother's cheek lightly, before scooping up a sobbing Freya onto his hip and taking Sanora's hand in his free one, a whimpering Ryan's hand held tightly in his sister's.

Once they were gone, Morgaine whirled about, setting her mind to the task of freeing Gawain from the arrow pinning him to his saddle. Isolde and Guinevere stood with the Knight, both trying to prevent him from fainting. Now that the adrenaline had faded, the pain was excruciating. That, combined with the obvious blood loss, was threatening to knock the sizable Knight unconscious.

Morgaine leaped at her husband, her hands going to join Guinevere's in bracing him upright. Gawain smiled down at her for a moment, before grimacing as one of Morgaine's newly trained healers tugged experimentally at the arrow. "Don't do that!" Morgaine snapped, her eyes flashing with concern and fury. "Help Guinevere brace him," she ordered, bending and pulling a knife from its sheath at her calf. Snapping her fingers at Lucan, she ordered, "Bring me a flask of spirits and a stool of some sort. Then find Dagonet and Tristan, and bring them to me."

"Yes Aunt," the boy agreed, bowing shallowly, before rushing off into the throng of chaos that always followed war.

Gawain smiled down at his wife, whispering, "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"It won't be fun," was her only reply, a small smile answering his.

The two Knights appeared as ordered, Lucan only seconds behind them. Relieved that he was for the most part unharmed, Isolde beamed up at her husband. Morgaine only smiled lightly, letting them exchange a sweet kiss, before calling them back to the matter at hand. "Dagonet, I need you to brace him." Grabbing the flask from Lucan, she let the young Knight put the stool on the floor in front of her. "Thank you, dearheart. Go find your wife; I'm sure she's worried sick about you."

Lucan nodded with a bright smile, kissing his aunt's cheek once more and dashing away. Tristan assisted her up onto the stool, before his hands trapped Gawain's thigh to the saddle. Morgaine smiled at him, relieved that she didn't have to tell him that this was going to be gruesome. Opening the flask, she doused first the blade and then the wound in the alcohol, heartsick at the sound of Gawain's pained grunt as the spirits burned on contact with his blood. Taking a bracing swig of the grog, Morgaine took comfort in the warmth that spread through her gut and steadied her shaking hands. Holding it up to her husband's lips, she ordered fondly, "Drink."

Gawain took a few hefty swallows, knowing he was going to need the bracing effects of the alcohol, if she was about to do what he thought she was.

Resting the dagger on Gawain's thigh, dull edge against the shaft, she said a quiet prayer to her beloved goddess, before snapping the arrow in two. Gawain barely bit off a scream, sagging slightly in the hands of the three warriors holding him upright. She tossed the shaft away and shoved the knife back into its sheath, before slipping her hands under his thigh. Tristan's hands joined Dagonet's in bracing the Knight, before Morgaine slid the limb up and off what remained of the arrow shaft. Gawain was pale-faced and sweating as his wife manipulated his body for him. Once he was free of the wood, Gawain smiled gratefully at his wife, before his eyes rolled back into his head and he swooned.

Dagonet caught him easily as he toppled off his horse, Tristan wrapping a bracing arm around his little sister's waist as she too swayed. "Morgaine? Are you all right?"

She breathed heavily for a long moment, before she nodded. "I'm fine, Trist, thank you. Dag, if you would take him to the infirmary for me?"

"I'll see you there soon," Dagonet rumbled quietly, before he shifted Gawain's body in his arms and strode away toward the infirmary.

Tristan squeezed her waist lightly, before releasing her. "Gawain and Galahad were the two most grievously injured. The rest of the healers can deal with our minor wounds; you trained them well. Go to them, Morgaine, your husbands are the only ones who need you now."

Smiling up at the man who had become as dear to her as her brother, Morgaine nodded with a sad smile. "Thank you, Tristan."

Tristan nodded, bending slightly to drop a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Go. For there is no need of you here."

Morgaine nodded once, before turning on heel and dashing as quickly as she could through the milling crowd toward the tent that had been designated for the injured. It took her only a moment to locate her husbands along the far side of the tent. Gawain was perched on the edge of a bed, his injured thigh laid out before him, as he stared at another healer's rough handling of his best friend's battered body. At the sight, Morgaine exploded, raging furiously at the other woman. "Get your bloody hands off my husband!"

Looking up, the healer quailed in the face of the White Lady's anger. Stammering apologies, she backed away before fleeing toward another patient. Morgaine hit her knees between the beds, hands reaching to touch both men. Gawain blushed, well-remembering his earlier swoon, but Morgaine's attention was not teasing. It was intense and frightened; an expression that Gawain rarely saw on the face of his usually serene wife. "Gawain, are you all right?"

He nodded once in agreement. "I'll keep. Help him."

Grabbing a rag, Morgaine put pressure on Gawain's thigh, trying to stop the still sluggish bleeding from the wound. "Hold that there," she ordered brusquely, too concerned with Galahad's injuries to be overly gentle. Turning her attention fully onto her youngest husband, Morgaine took in the myriad of injuries that littered the tall, lean frame. Someone had lain him on his side, forgoing the removal of his quiver, which still hung awkwardly across his neck. But everywhere she looked, there was blood. He had not fared well under the onslaught of Roman blades . . . and when she got her hands around her brother's neck, she was going to wring the life from him for putting him in such a dangerous position.

Her eldest daughter, Sanora, suddenly appeared at her back. "Mama, how can I help?"

Though she shuddered at the thought of her daughter seeing her father this way, Morgaine also knew the importance of an extra pair of steady hands. "I need bandages . . . needle and thread, and very hot water. We must clean the wounds, or he risks the chance of infection. Go, quickly."

Sanora nodded, dropping an absent kiss to her beloved Papa's head before turning on one heel and dashing away for supplies.

Morgaine's hand was gentle on Galahad's forehead as she moaned despairingly, "Oh my love, what have they done to you?"

Looking around with her healer's eye, she quickly noted the men and women lying scattered around the healer's tent. There were some that would not make it, of that she could tell upon first glance. Their injuries were mortal and the best that could be done would be to make them comfortable in their last hours. Some suffered only minor wounds while others were likely to be in a fierce struggle for their very lives. Fortunately, of the Knights, Galahad was the most grievously injured and Morgaine felt safe leaving her brothers-in-arms in the hands of her fledgling healer corps. She did snicker however at the sight of Lancelot lying on his belly, with an arrow quivering in the muscle of his rear, though declined to mention it to her husband in favor of future teasing material. The leading Celts – Connor, Molly, Fergus and Catlin –had also avoided serious injury and would be safe enough in the hands of others. Truly, her only concern now was for her youngest husband and his life, which she would have a hell of fight on her hands if she wanted to save.

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Gawain fondly. "Help me strip him. We have no time to waste."

Even while moving slowly on his injured leg, Gawain was still of great assistance as he helped her strip the unconscious body of bloody armor, worn boots, and tattered clothing. Soon enough, Galahad lay naked on the bed but for a cloth preserving his modesty from the room. His injuries, when laid bare, were even more serious than she had thought. In addition to the deep slice through his thigh, there was an obvious stab wound through the shoulder of his blade arm. A shallow gash across his temple matted his hair with crimson and streaked his face with the rusty color of dried blood. His ribs on the already weakened side were caved in slightly, the bruised boot prints blossoming over the skin an indication of how. Minor gashes and shallow scrapes littered his torso, but none would be immediately life threatening. The most serious concerns would be both his thigh and his shoulder, though the raspy sound of his breathing indicated some threat to his lungs as well.

Sanora arrived then with the supplies she had requested, setting them on the table by the bed before folding her hand over her father's clammy forehead. "Love you Daddy," she whispered wretchedly, bending to press a tender kiss to Galahad's cheek.

Knowing how important time was, Morgaine took little time for gentleness or tender handling as she worked feverishly to clean the wounds. Even through the depths of unconsciousness, Galahad flinched as she hastily pulled the rent flesh tightly together once more with needle and thread. Sanora assisted her mother soundlessly, anticipating her requests before they were asked. Gawain kept one palm folded gently over Galahad's, offering some comfort to the injured Knight.

Once the thigh had been sewn tightly, she set to work binding the broken ribs, hoping against hope that they would heal correctly and leave no permanent damage. There was little she could do for the shoulder, other than pack it firmly and bind it tightly. It would have to heal on its own; with any luck, it would heal clean and there would be no damage to the muscles there. Once the blood was washed from his temple, the injury there appeared to be none too serious, four tiny stitches pulling the flesh together quickly before it too was left to its own devices.

After what felt like forever, Morgaine used the back of her bloody hand to brush a lock of hair from her eyes and sat back on her heels. She had done what she could. With prayer and a little luck, it would be enough.


	110. Chapter 110

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Wow! I am so sorry that I have taken so long to get this next part written. I have no excuses, other than school, work, other projects, boyfriends, homework, midterms, etc. I'm going to upload 3 chapters to make up for it. But I'm going to warn you, I don't know when the next time I'll be able to upload will be. I mean, honestly? I decided that taking 12 credits during a one month SUMMER session was a good idea. That's 6 classes, everybody. Man, I must have been nuts.

Chapter 2 of 3

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Ten

Even with her success in the infirmary, Morgaine had very little time to rest. Now that the battle was over, Catlin had once again set her sights on the Celtic traitor, her nephew's new bride, Sorcha. Guiltily, Morgaine found herself wishing that Catlin had been more seriously injured, if only to give the situation a little more time to find a more permanent solution. Currently, she was tending to her brother's head wound as they brainstormed on a possible delay. Though mostly uninjured, Arthur had sustained a hard blow to the head, and a gash had opened over one eye, leaking blood constantly down into it.

"How are we going to protect her? The battle is barely over and already Catlin cries for more blood." Morgaine muttered, distressed by the woman's insistence on Sorcha's immediate execution.

"This is a Celtic matter. Connor is prince; let him put forth a viable solution."

"He does not know the whole story. He doesn't know about Accolon and Sorcha. He could potentially make the wrong decision here. And everything we worked to prevent will come to pass."

"Then we remind him of the newly finished battle. Connor is a good lad. He will want to stay more bloodshed, if he can help it. I get the feeling he does not relish the killing."

"Not all can be Roman centurions and warrior kings," Morgaine her brother fondly.

Arthur chuckled. "No, some of us can only be human." Looking up at his sister, he could see the fleeting sadness in her eyes as she occasionally glanced across the room toward where her husbands lay resting. "How are they?"

Morgaine bit down hard on her lower lip, shaking her head as though to chase away her fears. "Gawain will be fine. It looked serious, but should heal without major issue. Galahad . . . I don't know, Arthur. I just don't know."

"What does your gut tell you?"

"That he's only going to get worse, before he gets better," she confessed, the pain of that knowledge obvious within her tortured eyes.

Arthur squeezed her hand tightly, unable to give the kind of comfort he wished in case it turned out to be a lie, but unwilling to leave her without some form of consolation. "No matter how this ends, he loves you. And he'll fight like hell to stay with you. Believe in him, if you believe in nothing else."

Morgaine's smile was sad, but visible as she smoothed her fingers over the gash. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur chuckled fondly, "That's what big brothers are for. Go to them, Morgaine. I have no need of you here."

Morgaine nodded once, shifting her supplies away before moving once again toward the beds in which her husbands laid. "Don't forget to talk to Connor about Sorcha," she reminded him once again, as she turned back to watch him once again.

"I won't. Go," he ordered, his tone fond but firm. "You'll make yourself sick with worry if you don't see to them personally. I think I can handle anything pressing without my advisor directly at my side. If I need you, I'll send for you. Otherwise, they need you more than I do."

Morgaine darted back to his side quickly, pressing a slapdash kiss to his stubbled cheek before dashing off toward her husbands once more. Assured of his sister's peace of mind, Arthur stood dazedly, letting the room settle once again before striding off in search of Connor.

He found the young Celtic prince with his princess and champion, the three of them in a standoff with the irate Irish archer. Connor sighed heavily as Arthur joined their quartet, fingers massaging gently at what must have been a hell of a headache. Taking pity on her poor husband, Molly addressed the Briton king. "My lord, to what do we owe the honor?"

"My sister pointed out that there is still the dilemma of Sorcha," Arthur said.

"Ah-ha!" Catlin exclaimed, as though vindicated by his words. "Come on, Connor, she needs to be taken care of."

"Catlin, I do not relish the idea of taking yet another life today. Men and women, MY men and women, have fought hard and many of them lost their lives on that field. The thought of spilling yet more Celtic blood makes me sick to my gut," Connor argued, causing a small smile from Arthur at the knowledge that he had judged the young prince correctly. "Sorcha will be dealt with, but not now and certainly not tomorrow. She will remain under Briton guard and protection until our people have been laid to rest and the wounded have regained their former strength. Do I make myself clear?"

Catlin was literally vibrating with her fury, but there was little she could do in the face of Connor's resolution. Letting out an enraged scream, she rounded on one heel and stormed away. Connor groaned heavily, leaning lightly into his wife as Molly wrapped her arm around his waist. "Thank you, my love," he murmured, pressing a doting kiss into her chestnut hair.

Looking up at Arthur, he attempted a small smile. "Why do I have the feeling that there is something you are not telling me, my lord?"

Arthur chuckled. "You are quick. I am impressed. It's about Sorcha."

"What about her?" Connor asked on a sigh.

"She is married to one of my Knights."

The three Celts had obviously not been expecting that bit of news and stared at him with shell-shocked eyes. "Come again?" Fergus inquired, cocking on eye upwards.

"Yes, our last Council of the Round Table was a wedding between my nephew Accolon, son of Sir Dagonet, and our precocious young Miss Sorcha. Although the term for her now would be 'Lady Sorcha,'" Arthur chuckled, before coughing uncomfortably into his fist.

"You married a Celt to a Briton?"

"Uh, yes, and uh, you're welcome."

"For what!" Connor burst out.

"Providing you an excuse to avoid civil war," Arthur reminded him coldly, narrowing his eyes at the younger man. "Did you not think we would find out about her connections? Please, my sister sent my Knights after her parents. All shall out, Connor. It's the first thing you must learn about politics. Nothing is hidden and very little is safe from gossip."

"So how does this help us, exactly?" Molly asked curious.

"With Sorcha now a Lady of Britain, what self-respecting Celtic lord would dare to order her execution?" he asked with a wry smile.

"And with Sorcha a Lady of Britain, you now have the support of the Muirs, the MacLaughlins and the MacMahons," Connor said, suddenly seeing the intention behind the plan.

"Yes, and by extension, now so do you."

"Only with your endorsement," Connor muttered with an eyeroll. "So am I to assume that you are _not_ going to make me grovel for the control over my own kingdom?"

"Nonsense. What sort of a king do you think I am? I would never make a fellow king grovel. On a completely unrelated note, however, I am asking for a small favor . . . of your own volition, of course."

"Oh, of course," Connor agreed, both monarchs well aware of the sarcasm hidden in the polite phrasing.

"Though I should mention, while we're on the subject, that should my nephew find himself suddenly, and shortly, a widower, I don't think my endorsement would amount to much. Do you?"

Connor sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't think it would amount to much at all. All right, what is this completely unrelated favor of yours?"

"I would like Catlin to come around to our way of thinking on the matter, and to avoid my sister's infirmary at all costs. Galahad is very ill. And any stress on his part is quite likely to put my sister in a killing sort of mood."

"Come around to your way of thinking?" Connor asked incredulously. "Why don't you ask me to make the stars shine brighter or the sun shine less! Are you out of your bloody mind!"

"Connor, I don't need the stars or the sun to shine any differently. They are just fine the way they are. The problem's with Catlin, Connor. Focus. Isn't there anything she wants more than Sorcha's blood?"

Connor paused for a moment. "Well yeah. Galahad's blood," he chuckled.

Arthur did not look in any way amused by the statement, having seen Galahad's severely battered form for himself, leaving Connor to cough uncomfortably, stilling his amusement in its tracks. Molly spoke up in rescue of her husband, "And what do you suggest might encourage this change of heart?"

"That, my dear Princess, is your responsibility. I am only he who asks the favor. It is up to you to decide how best to go about it."

Molly nodded once, watching the Briton king walk off quietly, before looking up at her husband. Connor sighed once again; it was becoming a regular thing for him. "All right, so now what do we do?"

Fergus smiled. "We do what yer da woulda done, lad. We stall."


	111. Chapter 111

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Wow! I am so sorry that I have taken so long to get this next part written. I have no excuses, other than school, work, other projects, boyfriends, homework, midterms, etc. I'm going to upload 3 chapters to make up for it. But I'm going to warn you, I don't know when the next time I'll be able to upload will be. I mean, honestly? I decided that taking 12 credits during a one month SUMMER session was a good idea. That's 6 classes, everybody. Man, I must have been nuts.

Chapter 3 of 3

And now replies to my kindly reviewers: I love you all! You're amazing and I hope that these three chapters have been everything you hoped they would be.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Eleven

The first few days of Galahad's recovery were as hellacious as Morgaine had imagined they would be. The shoulder wound became infected almost immediately, in spite of her careful cleansing and treatment of the wound. In addition to this, his head injury induced vicious bouts of nausea which would leave Galahad gasping for air and unable to move due to the pain from his mangled ribcage. She and Gawain spent hours at his bedside, offering what little comfort they could, knowing that the very little they could do hardly touched the bone deep agony within his battered body.

Holding his head during another bout with the nausea, with Gawain's arms wrapped as tightly around his broken ribs as they could in order to keep pressure, Morgaine hardly noticed the Celtic child standing at the foot of the bed, obviously waiting for her attention. Galahad's tears dripped awkwardly down his face due to having been turned onto his side when he'd started to vomit and every instinct within Morgaine sought to ease her husband's agony. It was only once the spell had ended and they rolled him again onto his back, that Morgaine took notice of the boy.

Narrowing her eyes, she spoke sharply, even as her fingers tenderly wiped away her husband's tears, "What is it, boy! Speak up!"

The boy started, obviously unsettled by her sharp tone. Gawain sighed, running crooked fingers lightly through Galahad's hair in comfort as he took his turn in addressing the child. "What is it?"

"Connor has requested the presence of Sir Galahad at a ceremony to take place this evening. He is to be commended for heroism on the battlefield," the child stated stiltedly, still staring into Morgaine's suddenly blazing eyes with fright.

"You can tell your princeling that my husband is hardly fit to be gallivanting around at some meaningless ceremony to receive some hollow award," Morgaine hissed, furious at the very idea of Galahad leaving his bed for something so trivial.

Galahad's grip was weak as he took her forearm in his uninjured hand. "Nazneen," he whispered, trying very hard not to whimper amidst the jolting gasps that were his only intake of air then.

"No, Sarmatian. You need rest, more than you need this."

"Arthur will be disappointed if we do not go, Lady. It'll be seen as a snub, a lack of respect for the soon to be crowned king of Eire," Gawain warned, knowing instinctively what Galahad's argument would have been . . . if he had been able to speak.

"The new king of Eire can kiss my bonny arse!" Morgaine snarled, furious that Gawain was going along with this and not seeing her side of the disagreement.

Scowling, she stood and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. Pacing back and forth for a moment, she tried to come up with a way to put off the ceremony a bit longer. "I refuse to move him. You tell your prince, if he wants to have this ceremony tonight, then they're going to have to have it right here in the bloody infirmary."

The boy nodded, darting off to deliver the message. Huffing in irritation, Morgaine flounced back to the bed and flopped haphazardly onto the bed beside Galahad's. "You didn't have to treat him so poorly, Nazneen. He's only a boy," Galahad gasped out, forcing the words from damaged lungs.

Morgaine shook her head, dropping to her knees beside her husband's bed, pressing her fingertips tenderly over his lips. "Shh. Don't speak. Save your strength. You will have need of it."

Gawain sat on the edge of the bed opposite of Morgaine, his fingers still in Galahad's hair, simultaneously offering comfort and keeping him still. "I wonder why Connor is so insistent on having it now. Galahad would hardly be a handsome sight at a commendation ceremony."

Morgaine huffed again, this time with a level of anger in her tone. "I don't bloody care why now. All I know is that he's a fool if he thinks that I am going to allow Galahad to move from this bed. Period."

Gawain chuckled. "You are much too overprotective Lady."

Morgaine moved to protest, but a sudden gag from Galahad interrupted her thought as the married couple once again lunged to their stations. An hour later, Isolde arrived with a freshly brewed infusion of lemon balm for Galahad's steadily rising fever. Morgaine smiled in thanks as she accepted the cup while Gawain slowly eased the Youngest into a sitting position, his back leaning weakly against Gawain's chest. Together between the two of them, they managed to get the tea into the young man, the single cup disappearing down his throat at a distressingly slow pace over the course of the next several hours.

Morgaine was just setting the cup aside for the last time when people began to arrive in her infirmary. Seeing that they were mostly Celts, she let them be, thinking that they came to visit their injured comrades and family members. However, as time continued to pass, she became more and more aware of the steadily increasing flow of people into the room. Tucking the blanket firmly around Galahad, she stood angrily. "What the bloody hell are you all doing in my infirmary!" she demanded, navy eyes blazing as she stared down the Celt warriors before her.

Connor entered just then, bringing forward a new target for her wrath. "Connor! What the hell are your people doing in my infirmary!"

"I don't understand. You agreed that we could have the ceremony in the infirmary."

Morgaine stared at him for a moment, completely flummoxed, before exploding, "I did no such thing!"

"Well I'm not going to call the child a liar," Connor grumbled, with an eyeroll. "Look, Galahad does not need to move at all. We can do everything right here." Pausing for a second, he nibbled on his lower lip uncertainly before dropping his tone and inquiring quietly, "How is he?"

"Ill. Very, very ill."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"You will be, once I skin you alive for disturbing him," she growled, drawing her favorite blade and advancing menacingly.

Arthur was suddenly there, getting between her and Connor with hardly a thought for himself, both hands up in supplication as he murmured, "Rhiannon, peace."

"PEACE!" she roared, throwing up her hands. "What the hell do you mean, peace!"

"Peace is generally defined as the absence of fighting."

"You are trying my patience, Arthur," Morgaine hissed.

Arthur placed his hands on her shoulders as he promised, "It'll all make sense very soon."

Taking a deep breath, Morgaine ran a slim hand through her unruly hair, looking back over to gaze at her husband. Galahad's eyes were slitted open, and he seemed to be at least marginally aware of what was happening around him. Sighing heavily in defeat, she conceded. "Well, if we're going to do this, he should probably not be naked."

Arthur nodded, turning back to face his squires. "Archie, bring your fathers and your mother some clean clothes. Make sure that they are loose ones for your dad, understood?"

Archie nodded in agreement, and ran quickly from the room toward the chamber his mother and fathers had shared since their arrival in Eire. Morgaine scrubbed her face wearily, before turning to Connor. "Kindly remove your people while I set my husband to rights and then we can do this. But allow me to tell you that I am not happy with it. And you and I will have words, Arthur, if this in anyway sets back his recovery, do you understand?"

"Of course," Arthur agreed with a small nod of acquiescence.

"All right."

Connor turned to his people, raising his arms and calling for their attention. "All right then, I need you all to clear the room to give the guest of honor some space while his wife takes care of some details. So everybody out!"

Morgaine watched the Celts file out, noticing that Connor remained unmoved. Rolling her wrist and pointing towards the door, she insisted, "That includes you!"

"Oh, right," Connor agreed sheepishly, before filing out behind them all.

Archie arrived back shortly with a stack of clean clothes for his parents, and between the two of them, Morgaine and Gawain managed to dress Galahad in a loose-fitting tunic that was probably Gawain's and a pair of soft linen trousers. Dressing quickly, she let her brother lace the back of her dress as Gawain piled pillows carefully behind his best friend to prop him up a little for the ceremony. "Gawain, darling, get dressed. Unfortunately, I cannot stall them forever," she said, smiling fondly as he stripped out of the soiled shirt and into a clean one with his favorite brown vest over the top.

Sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed, she folded her hand over Galahad's forehead. "Are you sure about this?"

Unable to get enough air to properly breathe, let alone speak, all Galahad could manage was a single nod. "All right. Arthur, call them back in," she insisted, pulling the blankets back up over his body and smoothing them around him tenderly. Bending to kiss him sweetly, she murmured against his lips, "I love you, Sarmatian."

He grinned weakly at her, mouthing soundlessly, "I love you, Nazneen."

Soon enough, the Celts had reconvened in her infirmary, and Morgaine had been moved to a seat closer to her brother. It made her nervous to be so far from Galahad, but Gawain had refused to leave his side so she was much happier at that knowledge. Guinevere sat on the other side of Arthur, noticing the tension in her sister-in-law double as Catlin entered the room. A low growl came from low in the Dark Child's throat, as she imagined the Irish lieutenant causing trouble with her husband. Arthur's hand reached to take hers carefully, squeezing firmly with a call of, "Peace, sister. Peace."

"I don't care that she's an ally, Arthur. If she in any way upsets him, I'll kill her. I will find some way to put a knife through her throat. I'm no Tristan, but I'm pretty sure that not even _**I**_ could miss at this range."


	112. Chapter 112

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: In celebration of my good summer semester (passed every class with a B or better, thank you very much) I am uploading a chapter for you all. And it's a long one! Enjoy! I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twelve

Ignoring the Celtic dignitaries and the Sarmatian Knights with their Ladies as they crowded around into the infirmary, Morgaine kept equally close eyes on both her husband and Catlin. Arthur seemed to sense her disquiet and laid a restraining hand on her arm, hoping to stall any outbursts of violence. Looking up at his scout, Arthur signaled Tristan to his side.

With a shallow nod, the dark haired Knight came to his king's side. "How can I be of service, Arthur?"

"For the sake of my sister's sanity, I need you to stay close to Catlin and prevent her from doing anything foolish."

"Prevent her how?"

"You cannot kill her."

"Duly noted, Your Majesty."

Arthur scowled at the honorific, glaring at Tristan. "Don't call me that. Just make sure that everything goes smoothly during this ceremony, or I cannot guarantee my sister's actions."

"Are there any other guidelines to your instructions, Arthur?"

"None; just don't kill her. And do not make a scene. If you have to take care of it, keep it quiet."

"As quiet as the grave, Arthur . . . oh, I'm sorry. I misspoke."

Morgaine had been listening to the conversation, and chuckled at Tristan's attempt at humoring her. Crooking her neck, she smiled up at him. "Thank you, Tristan."

Tristan gave her a roguish smirk. "You're very welcome, Morgaine. I'll take care of our little problem for you; never fear."

Arthur rounded on the scout, glaring. "DO NOT KILL HER, TRISTAN!"

"I would never! Who do you think I am?" Tristan grinned, the gesture wolfish on his face, before he melted effortlessly into the crowd to take up station behind Catlin.

Morgaine and Arthur exchanged fond smiles, before turning back to the ceremony in front of them. Morgaine released a heavy sigh, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor as she watched Galahad get more and more pale every second he remained sitting up. Connor and his attendants were still setting up and Morgaine grew anxious for her husband's health the longer it took them to set up. "What is taking them so long?"

Arthur glanced at his sister and sighed, "I think they're trying to stall?"

Morgaine glanced at Arthur. "Is there a reason, Connor is trying to stall?"

"Look around you, sister. Do you happen to see anyone missing?"

Morgaine's eyes flashed around the infirmary, before her whole body stiffened in shock as she understood his meaning. "Arthur! Accolon's gone!" she hissed, grabbing her brother's arm fiercely.

"Yes, he and Lucan are taking Mary and Sorcha back to Britain early. This gives Catlin something else to distract her attention, and gives us the time to remove Sorcha from harm's way. It's really quite ingenious really. I'm not sure who was responsible for the idea. Connor or his exceptionally brilliant princess?"

Morgaine's tone was dry as she replied, "Molly."

Just then Connor's voice directed them to face forward once again. "Yesterday, we all gave witness to one of the greatest alliances in Eirean history. This alliance is written and signed with our combined blood. It has elevated simple men to heroes and has cast our oppressors into obscurity. It is my sincere hope that this friendship with last for our children to our children's children, and through many generations that will yet follow them."

Catlin's snort was quiet as she muttered under her breath, "Yeah; good luck with that."

Tristan leaned forward over her shoulder, his face right next to hers as he questioned, "I'm sorry? Were you talking to me?"

Surprised by his sudden appearance, Catlin jumped in her chair. "Ah! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Watching the ceremony of course. What are you doing here?"

"I was ordered to be here by Connor, as one of his lieutenants."

Tristan shooed her attention to the front with a single finger. "Shush; your princeling is speaking. Pay attention."

Catlin rotated in her chair to watch the Briton scout straighten up once again against the wall and pay avid attention to the Celtic prince beside his friend's bed. Staring for a second, she turned around once again to watch the ceremony. As her eyes scanned the room, her brows furrowed in confusion as she noticed the obvious lack of three prominent Britons.

Having been keeping a close eye on her, Tristan noticed the instant she realized that the youngest two Knights and Mary were missing. It would only be a matter of time, before she noticed Sorcha's absence as well. Leaning over to Lancelot, he jostled him quickly with one elbow. "Hey. I need you to make a scene."

"Why don't you make a scene?"

"I'm not allowed to make a scene! So make a scene!"

"What! Now!"

"No no no no no. Later. After Connor's done. When Catlin starts making a scene, you make an even bigger one."

"Why would Catlin start making a scene?"

"She's just noticed some key absences."

Lancelot, having been let in on the plan in the first place, paled. "Oh bugger. Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Say something inane and then something extremely annoying. No one will suspect a thing."

Lancelot gave Tristan a dry, brittle look, earning a wide grin from the scout. "Stick with what you know, Lance. Stick with what you know."

Hearing Galahad's name, both Knights turned back to face Connor who was preparing to give the award. "And now let us honor him who struck the winning blow against the Romans, who lent us the greatest assistance in dispelling the Roman tyranny. With no thought to life or limb . . . "

Morgaine leaned over to her brother, and growled, "Does he really need to remind me of that?"

Arthur chuckled and patted her knee. "Just a few minutes more, Morgaine."

Turning to take the gift from his attendant, Connor held it up over his head to show the assembly. It was a finely made bow, the alder shaft etched in intricate Celtic medallions. "Sir Galahad, we offer you this token of our esteem, that you may always remember the freedom you offered us with your nobility and sacrifice. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts."

Galahad smiled weakly, his voice raspy as Gawain stood to accept the bow for him. "Thank you, Your Highness. I will treasure it always," he promised in a raspy voice, throat moving rapidly as he swallowed several times to waylay the nausea.

Connor smiled at the older man and bowed slightly, "You will always be among friends here." Turning back to the assembly, he spoke loudly enough for the whole room to hear. "Thank you all for coming. You are dismissed."

Tristan elbowed Lancelot, who opened his mouth to speak. However, anything Lancelot had been about to say was lost as Morgaine lunged forward with a cry of "Galahad!" as her Youngest husband let out a soft sob and proceeded to lose the tea he'd consumed not even an hour before. Both Morgaine and Gawain rolled Galahad onto his side, as the young man continued to heave, tears rolling down his cheeks from the pain.

Tristan and Lancelot glanced at each other, both noticing that the entire assembly's attention was riveted on the suffering Knight. Morgaine's voice was low as she sought to sooth her husband, her fingers snapping behind her as Sanora dashed to the herb cabinet to grab something to help. Gawain's voice was sharp as he addressed his daughter. "Sanora! Hurry!"

"I'm coming, Papa," Sanora promised, snatching what she was looking for from the piles of herbs and rushing back to her parents' side. "Here you are, Mama."

"Thank you, honey," Morgaine breathed, her hands ruthless as she pried Galahad's jaws open and poured the sleeping draught down his throat. Pinching his nose viciously as he moved to purge it, she managed to keep most of it down him long enough for it to start to work.

Long seconds passed before Galahad's eyes started blinking slowly as the draught began to work. "Nazneen?" he breathed, confused by what was happening to him.

"It's all right, Sarmatian. It's just going to help you sleep. You're all right. Just rest," she soothed, her fingers light over the planes of his face as he dropped further toward unconsciousness.

Finally Galahad dropped off to sleep, causing heavy sighs from Morgaine and Gawain. Looking up, the Briton Princess scowled at the sight of everyone staring at her slumbering husband. "Get out!" she shrieked, causing a stampede as the Celts and Knights dashed quickly toward the crowded doorway.

Reaching out, Tristan grabbed Catlin's arm roughly before she dashed forward to accost Connor about what she'd noticed. Rounding on the scout, she smacked at him ineffectually as she ordered brusquely, "Unhand me at once, you troll!"

Tristan called to his fellow Knights as he dragged Catlin back into Sanctuary. "Bors! Dagonet! To me!"

Once inside Sanctuary, Tristan found an empty supply chest. Rounding on the struggling archery captain, he used the hilt of his dagger to knock her out before tossing her in. Slamming the lid, he turned to his fellow Knights. "I need you both to do me a favor."

Bors cocked an eyebrow at the scout, curious about his reasoning behind locking one of Connor's lieutenants in a chest. "Trist, what are you doing?"

"I need you both to take turns sitting on this chest until I get back."

"Why?" Dagonet asked, his usual quiet tone colored with confusion.

"Catlin has noticed the absence of Accolon and Sorcha. I want to make sure that they are all safely away before we let her out rampaging to enact whatever she thinks passes for justice."

Bors sniggered, taking a swig of ale. "If only Galahad were awake to see this. He'd love this."

Tristan chuckled, acknowledging that. "We'll make sure to tell him all about it once he's well."

Dagonet nodded in agreement, watching as Bors took a seat on top of the trunk. "We'll detain her until you return, Tristan. Be quick."

Tristan nodded, before running off through Sanctuary's corridors to find Arthur and Guinevere. He found the Briton King and Queen in Accolon's chambers, noticing immediately that all of the young Knight's things were missing from their places about the room. "Are they gone then?"

"They left at about the time that Arthur sent Archie for clothing for the Dark Child and her husbands," Guinevere agreed, turning to face the dark haired Knight. "Arthur and I are just discussing how to inform Catlin and the rest of the Celts that she is gone. We're tossing around the idea of telling them that Accolon and Sorcha eloped to Britain to avoid Sorcha's execution."

"An elopement? Would that work?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm more of a fan of just being honest and telling the Celts that we married them off to each other intentionally. No alliance can remain healthy if one's allies cannot be honest with each other."

Guinevere sighed. "I just don't think being honest will do the alliance any good either."

Tristan retrieved his dagger from his boot and started to cut into an apple he withdrew from his sporran. "I have to go with Arthur with this one, my lady. If Accolon and Sorcha were married with the full approval of the Briton king, then no one would dare to gainsay the validity of her protection from her execution. If they just eloped, her protection could potentially be revoked if Arthur is believed to be put under enough pressure."

Arthur sighed heavily, "Which means that the next item of business on our plates is to get Connor and Molly crowned as King and Queen of Eire as quickly as possible. The sooner the better, as a matter of fact."

Guinevere nodded. "I'll get the ladies together and we'll arrange everything for you, Arthur."

"Thank you, Guin. I appreciate it," Arthur breathed, pulling her close to kiss her temple.

Tristan spoke up. "You're going to need to send out summons to the other Clan Heads so that they can be present to endorse Connor as king."

"How long is it going to take to gather them all here?"

"A day. Maybe two," came Connor's answer from where he had appeared behind them. Molly stood at his side with Fergus leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor behind him. "I'm looking for Catlin, and I cannot seem to find her."

To Arthur's surprise, Tristan immediately looked sheepish. "She's . . . mildly . . . indisposed."

"Indisposed, Tristan?" Arthur questioned, one eyebrow cocked upward curiously.

"I might have locked her in a trunk somewhere."

Guinevere stared at the scout, questioning in disbelief, "A trunk?"

"Bors and Dagonet are guarding it. I assure you, she's quite safe . . . just out of our collective hair."

"Tristan, kindly have Bors and Dagonet release Catlin from the trunk."

"Do we have to?" Tristan asked plaintively.

"Tristan, it is not okay to lock our host's archery captain in a trunk."

"Don't kill her. Don't make a scene. You said nothing about not locking her in a trunk," Tristan reminded his king, giving the older man a sardonic look.

"I didn't realize I had to be so specific," Arthur drawled, rolling his eyes.

Guinevere's reply was fond as she teased, "It _is_ Tristan."

"Touché. Tristan, please go release her from the trunk. Thank you."

"Fine," Tristan grumbled, slouching from the room as he went to go tell Bors and Dagonet to release her.

Arthur gave Connor a small, sheepish smile. "She should be available in just a few minutes."

Connor nodded as Molly questioned, "And where are we on the Sorcha problem?"

"Sorcha is safely on her way by now. I imagine that she is with Accolon, Lucan and Mary, and that all four are already aboard ship headed for Britain by this time," Guinevere replied, with a fond smile for the Irish princess.

Molly nodded. "Good. One less thing we have to worry about later."

Connor's reply was quiet and heartfelt. "Indeed."


	113. Chapter 113

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Author's Note: Wow, I'm a terrible person. I can't believe I let the time get so far away from me. I've been struggling with writing; my ex-fiancé really destroyed the confidence I had in the quality of my writing, but he's gone now and I'm starting to get back into it. On a positive note, however, I am now the proud parent of my first little girl. She's so beautiful! That does not, however, excuse the lateness of this post. I promise to try to be more forthcoming.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Thirteen

Two days later, the Heads of the seven remaining Celtic clans had gathered at Sanctuary to endorse Connor so that he could take his rightful place as king. Shanahan Muir and his wife, Rian MacLaughlin, sat with her brother, Aiden MacLaughlin, who was sitting with his wife Lenore McKenzie. In addition, Shanahan's mother Aisling Muir née MacMahon sat with her son as well. Lenore's father, The McKenzie, was sitting beside his daughter however he as yet was not allied to either side.

On the other side of the affair, sat the heads of the MacIntyres, the McKinnons and the McClintocks. Though they had all known and respected Connor's father, Derek McAllister, they were not so sure yet of the leadership skills of his son, Connor mac Derek. They would withhold their endorsement until they could be reasonably reassured that Connor was capable of leading as the King of Eire, and the High Lord over all the Clans.

Fortunately for Connor, he had two aces in the hole. First, he had gained an alliance with Artorius Castus, from the Isle of Britannia to the East, whose reputation had spread far and wide since before he was crowned king. And secondly, Connor – with the assistance of the Briton King and his Sarmatian Knights – had expelled the Romans from Eire. With any luck, these two things would stand him in good stead before the Clan Heads and he would finally take his place as his father's successor to the crown.

Once everyone was in their places, the Father and Druid King of Eire stood to face the assembly. Though only a child, he held all the presence of the Druid Kings that had come before him. "Welcome, noble leaders of Eire. We are gathered here today to endorse the Crown Prince Connor mac Derek, and elevate him to his rightful place as King over all of Eire. First, let us honor the lords present." Offering a shallow bow in turn to each Head of Clan, the Druid Father acknowledged each clan and lord assembled. "Also we would like to welcome the honored guests and esteemed allies of Connor mac Derek, the King of Britannia, Artorius Castus; his Queen, Guinevere; the Dark Child of Britain, Princess Morgaine of the Woads; and his Sarmatian Knights.

"We are here today to endorse Connor for kingship. How say you all?"

There was a loud outcry of "Ayes" and "Nays". Despite being concerned for the welfare of her still ill and absent husband who still lay on a cot in the infirmary, Morgaine had come to the gathering in support of her brother. She glanced at her brother now, her eyes asking a silent question. Arthur shook his head, urging patience for just a moment longer. The Druid King held up his hands, calling for silence from the now yelling and feuding clan heads. "Silence!" he bellowed, his child's voice resonating through the small chamber. "We are all lords here. Let us comport ourselves with some decorum. The Muirs . . . how say you?"

Shanahan stood, "Clan Muir supports Connor mac Derek for the role of King."

Again, there was an outcry from three of the clan heads. Eric McClintock shot to his feet, shouting, "Why the change of heart, Muir! You were not allied with Connor mac Derek when the Romans held you imprisoned!"

"Connor mac Derek and his people rescued my beloved Rian and me from the Roman stews, and rid the island of the Romans. Not to mention he created an alliance with the powerful king to the east, who is Connor's sponsor for the throne. That alone has earned the Prince my support."

Aiden MacLaughlin and Aisling's nephew, Brian MacMahon, both stood as well, announcing together, "I too lend my support to Connor's bid for kingship!"

Seeing this outcry of support, Lenore's father Robert McKenzie, stood as well and added his own silent support with a simple nod in the direction of the Druid King. The Druid King returned the nod in his direction, before turning to the three remaining clan heads. "The count is five Heads of Clan in favor of the crown to Connor mac Derek. How then say the remaining three?"

Seamus McKinnon, an elderly gentleman who would soon be stepping down and handing the title of Laird and Chief over to his son, stood then. "I have my doubts. However, the young prince has shown great leadership among his men as he fought the Roman occupation. Therefore, I offer my own endorsement for his elevation to King. However, I do offer a word of caution. Do not seek to rise above who you are and what you can do. For to do so, is to invite the same fate as your father's."

Connor bowed slightly in acknowledge of the wisdom, nodding solemnly in agreement. "I will do so, my lord. Thank you for your words of wisdom."

The Druid King bowed his head in acknowledgement as Seamus offered the Father a shallow bow. "Thank you, for your wise words, McKinnon." Turning to Brandon McIntyre, he asked, "And what say you?"

Brandon took a deep breath but nodded once. "I will accept Connor mac Derek as king. But I offer the same caution as my brother, The McKinnon. Be wary of reaching too far from your throne. You will be king by the grace of the clans . . . and that grace can be retracted at any time."

"And what says The McClintocks?"

"Nay. I will not accept Connor mac Derek as king," Eric McClintock insisted, arms folded defiantly over his chest.

The Druid King sighed heavily. "The vote is seven to one. Connor mac Derek, you have been endorsed by the populace of Eire as king. You and your princess shall be crowned King and Queen of Eire at sunset this evening. Prepare, for the role you undertake is not an easy one and will be fraught with many trials. Until twilight, this Council is concluded. Thank you all for being in attendance and I shall see you all once again when we have reconvened at the waterfall within the heart of Sanctuary just before dusk. You are all dismissed."

Later that night, Arthur and Guinevere met up with Connor and Molly at the entrance to the prince and princess' chambers. Molly looked beautiful in the gown she had worn the night Morgaine and Bergisa had conspired together to get Connor to notice her. Connor wore his armor, buffed and polished to a high gleam. Arthur clapped the young prince on the shoulder. "You ready for this?"

"Not a chance in hell," Connor muttered, his face pale as he inwardly panicked about what was about to happen. "I'm not ready for this. I can't be king. I got my parents killed; I got Claire killed; what if I get every man, woman and child in Eire killed? I can't do this . . . I have to tell the Father."

Guinevere and Molly exchanged exasperated glances, while Arthur only chuckled. "Take a deep breath, Connor. I promise, it is not as bad as all that."

Connor looked up at his mentor. "Were you ready to be crowned, when you became king?"

Arthur laughed outright. "Not a chance in hell. I was nervous, and terrified, and panicked, and I was convinced that I couldn't be a good king . . . hell, I couldn't even be a mediocre king!"

"How did you manage to go through with it?"

"I had good people who believed in me. Who stood at my side and reminded me that I could do this. My sister, my wife, my Knights, Merlin; all of them stood with me at my coronation and every single one of them has believed in me unfailingly ever since." Arthur shook the young prince's shoulder fondly to force his attention. "You have a good support group as well. Your champion will always be your strongest left hand, and your wife will be constantly at your right. Catlin and Tully are strong and determined, and they will serve you well, if you remember to use those strengths for good. Rely on the people around you, and you will never fall prey to the warnings that both The McKinnon and The McIntyre gave you."

Taking a deep breath at the encouragement, Connor straightened his shoulders and nodded once. "All right. Let's do this."

Molly stepped to her husband's side, linking her hand with his to offer him whatever comfort she could provide. "No matter what, Connor, I'll be right here all night. We're in this together . . . I promise."

Connor smiled at his lady briefly, leaning over to kiss her sweetly, before letting the serving women fuss one last time over his cloak and his lady's attire. Arthur tucked Guinevere into his side as the two watched the Eirean prince and princess prepare for the moment that would change their lives. A small smile curved Guinevere's lips as she murmured, "Do you remember when that was us? And we were the ones standing before all of Britain, crowned king and queen by the grace and good will of our people?"

"I was scared to death," Arthur agreed with a quiet chuckle, his eyes watching Connor as the younger man nuzzled into his wife with an almost silent murmur. "They'll be all right . . . so is he."


	114. Chapter 114

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Author's Note: Yay! I've posted a new chapter! Let me know what you think! And thank you to everyone that has continued to read this story and post reviews. I know it's been a long, often frustrating wait for each chapter. Thank you all!

Chapter One-Hundred-And-Fourteen

Morgaine sat at her husband's bedside, using a cloth to bathe cool water over his overly heated flesh. Gawain was dressing for the coronation, even as he complained softly about having to be the one to go. Galahad had fallen into the first real sleep he'd had in days, and neither of his spouses was particularly interested in waking him. The Youngest of the Dark Child's husbands lay on his uninjured side, curled up into a position of recovery that allowed him to breathe despite his damaged ribcage and imperiled lungs. "I still don't see why I have to be the one to go. I'm just a Knight . . . you're a Woad Princess and the Dark Child of Britain. Surely that puts your presence at a higher level of priority than mine."

Morgaine smiled up at her blond haired husband, one hand absent against Galahad's flesh as she teased, "But you're so pretty, no one'll even know that I wasn't there. I'm counting on you to dazzle them with your good looks."

"Lady . . .," Gawain admonished, the look in his eyes seeing right through her ploy to distract him and cutting straight through to the heart of the matter.

"I already left him for the Council of Clans this morning; with all due respect to Connor and Molly, I will not do so again today. I'm counting on you to represent the three of us, so that even if we're not there our presence is felt."

"And what should I tell them if someone should question your absence?"

"Who says they'll notice? I doubt anyone will see anything outside of your prettiness."

"Lady," he scolded fondly unable to resist a smile, as he enjoyed the first moment of brief playfulness his wife had exhibited all day.

"Instead of telling them anything, ask them this instead; if Galahad should slip away while I'm not here to save him, do they really want to be the ones to have to face my rage?"

Gawain gave her a soft smile. "At which point, I'll bet everyone will concede that this is where you should be. All right. I'll be your eyes and ears, and recount everything I can remember once I return. Agreed?"

Morgaine looked up at him with a winning smile, eyes sparkling as she breathed, "Thank you, my love."

Gawain nodded, one calloused hand coming up to caress her cheek as he nuzzled his nose against the smooth flesh just to the right of her nose. "Keep good watch, and I'll be back before you know it."

Their lips fused tenderly, Morgaine's hands coming up to tangle in the lengthy strands of his blond hair. "Once my Sarmatian is well again, and I can have you all to myself, remind me to fuck you senseless."

Gawain nearly roared with laughter, only just reigning in the impulse before he could wake their slumbering partner. Capturing her lips with his fiercely and holding her tightly within the embrace, he forced every inch of his passion upon her. Breaking away only long enough to breathe, he rasped, "As my Lady wishes, so shall it be done." His next kiss was brief but just as piercing, before he reminded her, "And he's our Sarmatian, Lady, not just yours."

Morgaine's fingers were brutal in his hair, as she fought to keep up with his embraces, before the two were forced apart by the constraints of propriety and lack of oxygen. Midnight eyes stared deeply into sky blue, before she finally pushed him away, the married couple struggling to catch their breaths. "I love you, Gawain . . . now go, before I forget all about propriety and demand your attentions right here, right now."

Hesitating for a moment, as he contemplated whether or not that qualified as a good thing or a bad thing, Gawain glanced at the window carved from stone and sighed. The sun was going down and time was running short. Kissing her once more, he twisted the midnight tresses around his fingers as he ravaged her mouth for a brief, ardent moment, before he released her and stormed from the infirmary with all the discipline and restraint he could manage.

Arriving at the waterfall, Gawain took a moment to look about his surroundings and take in the stances of his fellow Knights, scattered throughout the room with seemingly random placement. Gawain immediately discerned the strategic motivations behind their positions, nodding once in Lancelot's direction as the First Knight gestured with his head toward the blond's own position for the coronation. Hobbling slowly on a still healing leg, Gawain nevertheless took up his post with poise and aplomb. There was an obvious hole where Galahad should have been, but the Knights refused to dwell on it. The health and fate of their Youngest weighed heavily on all of their minds, but their King was relying on them. They would not fail him then as they had not failed him before.

He was at his post for only a brief moment, before Tristan joined him at his station. "How's the leg?" the older Knight inquired, watching the blond carefully for any hint of a lie.

Gawain gave a leery half grin as he conceded, "Hurts like hell. But I'll live."

"Where is your lady?"

Chuckling, he remained silent, wondering how long it would take for the Sarmatian scout to answer his own question. Tristan's next question was asked with quiet reserve, "How is he?"

"Alive. At least he was when I left the infirmary."

"I wouldn't worry too much, mate. That one's a fighter, he is. You watch; he'll be up and around, and fucking your wife, before you know it."

Caught off guard by the uncharacteristic vulgarity from the usually witty, but sanguine scout, Gawain burst into a torrent of loud laughter. Glancing at each other with small smiles on their lips, the Knights took very little notice of the interaction between the two. The Druids, however, were visibly startled by the sudden noise. A few of the more experienced and better trained priests and priestesses resolutely ignored the interruption to their chants; however, the newer recruits into their order all lost their places and turned to face the almost wheezing Knight to discover the cause of his mirth.

Just then a herald mounted the dais situated at the front of the hall. "Rise all, to honor the Heir Apparent to the Eirean throne, Prince Connor mac Derek, the Liberator of Ireland, and his lady wife, Princess Molly inin Fergus!"

As everyone stood, the crown prince and his princess entered the hall from a small entryway at the back. Dressed in complimentary attire, Molly's hand atop Connor's as they strode confidently into the hall, they were quite the pair. Molly's dark hair had been braided back from her face, the ends falling in chaotic curls about her shoulders and down her back. Connor's long blond hair had been brushed back, the sides held back with a gold clip etched with his family's insignia.

Arthur and Guinevere made a much quieter entrance after them, knowing that all eyes would be on the soon-to-be crowned pair as they moved gracefully toward the dais. The four moved slowly toward the dais, where the Druid King stood waiting, his child's face very solemn. Once they had joined him, Arthur and Guinevere stayed back while Connor and Molly moved forward to kneel before the young Father. The Father's high, childlike voice pierced through the silence as he spoke, "Connor mac Derek and Molly inin Fergus, you have been endorsed by the Irish Clans and have hereby presented yourselves to be crowned High King and High Queen of all Ireland. This is a weighty responsibility you both undertake, manifested by the crowns soon to be placed upon your brows. Care for your people well and rule them fairly, and they will love you. They are your children, as this land is your mother. Learn from them, as they learn from you and your reign shall be long and prosperous."

Turning to face the herald, the boy king used the fingertips of both hands to lift the heavy golden crown from its pillow. Designed to be worn by only the High King, it was a solid piece and almost too heavy for a child so young. "Connor mac Derek, you have proven yourself strong and devout in the protection of your own people. You have led them through battle and into a time of great peace. Do you accept the responsibility of High King? Do you vow to use your power to better the lives of even the lowliest among your people? Do you swear to treat each and every one of your council with the respect and honor their titles demand? And do you undertake the duty of protecting this great kingdom from any who seek to conquer her once more?"

"I do so avow, Father," Connor agreed, voice strong and unwavering as he bowed his head before the Druid King.

The Father nodded once and stepped forward, placing the crown securely on Connor's head, the gold glinting noticeably against the sungilt sheen of his hair. Turning, he lifted an ornately woven silver coronet and turned once again, this time to face Connor's princess. "Molly inin Fergus, you have married into power and responsibility, and because of this, your task is greater than your husband's can ever dream to be. You have followed your husband into glory and greatness, but were led by the strength of your own convictions and your heart. Do you accept the responsibility of High Queen? Do you vow to strengthen your husband's word with your own, offering service to all those who have need of it? Do you swear to be your husband's strong right hand, his aid and helpmate with all of the difficult choices and daunting tasks his new title requires of him? And do you undertake the duty of protecting your High King, to keep him safe from both temptation and undue harm?"

"I do so avow, Father," Molly vowed, her voice hitching as she fought to keep her tears at bay.

Connor glanced over at her for a moment, squeezing her hand lightly as he sought to comfort her. The coronet settled comfortably onto her forehead, the metal warming against her skin. Raising his hands, he looked out over the assembly. "All those gathered here, witness this day the coronation of your new High King and High Queen. Let word of these proceedings spread like wildfire through heather throughout the land, carrying these tidings of great joy to even the lowest among the low. For with today has come a tender peace, and a monarchy that has vowed to protect it. Your Majesties . . . rise and face your people."

Connor stood first, assisting Molly tenderly from her knees beside him. The two turned to face the Celts assembled, barely flinching as the herald behind them cried out, "All hail the High King, Connor! All hail the High Queen, Molly! Long live the King and Queen!"

From the crowd came a loud cheer, "Long live the King and Queen!"

Turning to face the cheering crowd, Connor held up one hand to call for silence. "I pray you, peace! Tonight, all are princes of Eire! Join my lady and myself in the Grand Hall to celebrate this momentous occasion and to help us usher in a time of peace and prosperity for our kingdom!"

Kissing his wife's hand, he urged her gently back the way they had come. All of Ireland cheered their king's generosity, as they followed him from the hall. No one noticed a single silhouette, hobbling slowly as it disappeared once more toward the infirmary where his own lady and best friend awaited him.


End file.
